I pretend I am a princess so I can behave like one
by screaming internally
Summary: In one lifetime, Mia learns she is a princess in the Plaza Hotel from her father at the age of 14. In this one, she learns it at 13, from the 14 year old Lord Nicholas Devereaux, before she has any requirement to be royal. She's happy about this. And then. She still has to be a princess. It still sucks. book-movie fusion fic, following the book storyline.
1. I am a princess, so I behave like one

**I pretend I am a princess so I can behave like one**

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Title from 'A Little Princess', Francis Hodgson Burnett

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Summers at Miragnac were never interesting. The closest they ever got were when Mia could convince Grandmere to let her go in to the small country town nearby and go ape on knick-knack shopping at the thrift stores and bakeries and ice-cream parlour. Other than that, it was all 'Don't sit on the stair-rail Amelia!' and 'Stop playing that racket-rock pop music Amelia!' All day, every day.

Sure, horse riding is fun – until you're not allowed to actually GO anywhere, and then you're stuck riding a horse in circles for two hours staring at the same scenery and getting yelled at by your day-drinking grandma about not sitting up straight on a horse. Then horse riding becomes less fun.

And sure, singing lessons can be fun – as long as you get to CHOOSE to take them, instead of being forced to be the aforementioned day-drinking French grandma, and the singing instructor wasn't the sort of person who makes you lift a _grand piano_ off the ground to practise singing 'FROM THE DIAPHGRAM, AMELIA, NEVER THE LUNGS. ALWAYS THE DIAPHGRAM', as if that MEANS anything to anyone in the real world that isn't the opera world. Although, Mia did appreciate being able to carry a tune now. Just not quite how she got that skill.

Being yelled at in French just sounds worse than being yelled at in English too, for some reason.

The fact that she was never allowed to bring a friend to her summer 'vacation' just tended to make the whole thing worse, because there was never anyone else her own age around.

Well, except for one person, but he was only around about half the time. Lord Nicholas Devereaux, maternal nephew of Lord Mabry of Genovia, who was Agriculture Minister in the Parliament her Dad worked in. Lord Mabry was honestly horrible, but Nick was nice. Cute, even, with bright blue eyes that honestly hurt to look at sometimes, and thick dark hair. The fact that he didn't treat her like some stupid girl like other boys at her school did, and actually talked to her about fun stuff and played games with her also helped Mia consider him a friend.

Like right now. Sure, they weren't doing anything special – just relaxing under an apple tree near the vineyard, but it was better than having all the names, ages and life statuses of Genovian cabinet members drilled into her head by her day-drinking grandmother.

"Like," Mia said, "I don't even know why she cares so much. I don't live in Genovia, I don't pay attention to Genovian politics – I barely pay attention to American politics! – so why she does all this except to torture me, I have no idea. Like, yeah, whatever, Dad works in the parliament, but it's not like it's actually relevant to me. It's never gonna be relevant to me."

"Well, it has, maybe, a fifty per cent chance of being relevant to you," Nick drawled. Strangely for a guy that lived all his time in a majority French-and-Italian-speaking country, Nick was really good at speaking with no accent in English, except for the occasional rolling of vowels. Nick went on, "unless your Dad never has more kids, then knowing the members of Parliament will definitely come in handy for you."

"Why would Dad not having more kids somehow make me need to know the ins and outs of Genovian politics?" Mia asked. "That literally makes no sense."

Nick frowned, confused. Why? Mia didn't know. He looked like he knew something she didn't. So she asked, and all Nick said in response was a very vague, "Wait, you really don't . . ." and trailed off, looking like he'd realized something astounding.

"What? What is it?" What had Mia said?

Nick blinked hard, like trying to clear his eyes of a fog. "Ah – nothing. I just realized I need to grab something from my house to show you tomorrow."

Which was clearly a blatant lie, but Mia decided not to push the point. She'd over the years not to push Nick on some subjects.

;

Except instead of Nick bringing something from his house the next day, while Mia was reading a book after their weird conversation, he went to Dowager Princess Clarisse's house library, looking for one particular book.

The updated printing of the Genovian Royal Family history. There was a picture of Mia's father that had been taken just one year before. Nick didn't understand why Mia didn't know about her family. What, was she only told that he did something vague in the government? Her father RAN it.

Still, Nick was also willing to chalk Mia's lack of discovery up to her own disinterest in politics – unless it was to do with the environment or animal rights, Mia generally didn't pay a ton of attention to it.

Book, book, book, ah _ha_! Found it.

Nick pulled the leather-bound book, the _Famille Royale de Genovia_, embossed in gold on the cover. Printed six months ago.

Nick flipped the thick pages over, five hundred years of Mia's paternal family flicking by until, near the last fourth of the book, came the page about Mia's father.

Nick pulled out a loose piece of paper from one of the library desks – he had no idea why Clarisse even had the desks, it's not as if she spent a ton of time in her own library, she tended to have one of her maids fetch a book for her – and grabbed a pen, scratching out a quick message for Mia on it and wedged the paper between the pages of Prince Philipe's section.

One surreptitious trip up to Mia's room later, being careful to stash the book somewhere Mia would find it, but not where any passing maid could end up finding it and taking it away, Nick figured his work was done.

;

Still, it took Mia until about 10pm that night to find the book, when she flopped onto her bed to sleep and ended up feeling like she'd just smacked her head on a chunk of wood like that one trip to Indiana with her mother.

_What the heck?_

Shoving her hand under the normally-plush pillow, there was – something hard, but not beneath her pillow. _In_ her pillow. Sitting upright, Mia pulled the pillow into her lap, reaching into the case of it, and gripped the solid whatever-it-was, yanking it out.

It was a – book? A fancy, leather and gold book like the kind all over the place in Grandmere's library. What the heck was it doing in her pillow case?

_Famille Royale de Genovia_. Royal Family of Genovia. Okay.

Mia flipped lightly over the pages, not really absorbing any of it – she'd done a worksheet on the royal family of Genovia in sixth grade, when they looked at some of the still-existing royalty in the world. But – there was a piece of paper wedged into the book, so Mia flipped to where it was.

'If you have any questions about this, ask me tomorrow when I come over - Nick'

Huh? But then – Mia actually _looked_ at what she was supposed to be asking questions about. A full, A4 page, full colour, glossy photograph of her _dad_. Wait, what?

Mia scanned the next page, the one with the information on it, and read the words 'Artur Christoff Philipe Gerard Grimaldi Renaldo, Crown Prince of Genovia, born -, reign 1978-present'. Which. Did not compute. What?

_Eldest and only son of HRH Crown Prince Artur Christoff Rupert Gerard Mignonette Renaldo (b.1928 - d.1978) and HRH Dowager Princess Clarisse Marie Grimaldi Renaldo (b. 1939 – present), Crown Prince 'Philipe', as called by family, is the current ruling Prince of Genovia, with no apparent living heir . . . ._

Wait, wait, wait.

There's a picture of her dad, who works in politics in a position that had only been described to her in vague terms, in a book about a royal family of Genovia, the country her dad helps govern. Clarisse Grimaldi Renaldo is her grandma's name, and she's listed as a 'Dowager Princess', whatever title that is, and her dad is in the photo where the current Crown Prince is supposed to be, so her DAD is the CROWN PRINCE of a WHOLE COUNTRY, which means . . .

Is Mia a princess?

;

Mia managed to keep her mouth shut all through breakfast, even with Grandmere making tutting noises over how tired Mia looked.

Of course she was tired! She spent all night tossing and turning in her bed, trying to decide whether or not she was a princess! The book said her father had no living heirs, which was just – factually wrong, because Mia EXISTED, but did that mean Mia wasn't a princess? How did that work, to be the daughter of a princess, and granddaughter of a prince, but not be a princess herself?

GOD, Nick better have some answers.

;

"So either you stuck that book under my pillow, or the maids have a sick sense of humour." Mia had managed to skip by 'stressed and scared' over the last hour and a half while waiting for Nick to turn up with Charlotte, his spotted-saddle mare. Eventually he did, and Mia had hit the 'annoyed and irritated' aftermath of being stressed over something she had no answers for.

"No," Nick was smiling in a nervous way, "no, I did put that book there."

"Why?!"

"Because I was confused why you didn't know about your dad. He's the crown prince of a country you go to every year, but you didn't seem to be aware that he was. I figured you deserved to know."

"Know what?! That I'm a princess! I don't want to be a princess! I love my life the way it is – I don't need to be more of a freak than I already am!" Mia was stressed again – she didn't want any part of any royalty-ness, no thank you! God, she was already enough of a freak, what with the bad math grades and the fact that she didn't seem to be about to hit puberty any time soon, being a princess and needing to learn how to be one would just be too much.

"No, no, Mia. It's okay. You're not a princess."

Now Mia was confused. "How is my Dad a prince, my grandmother a dowager princess, and me the only heir, even though the history books don't seem to know that, but I'm not a princess?"

"Well, for starters, you haven't been declared his _legal _heir. He'd have to announce that in Parliament, and to the Genovian populace, neither are things he's done yet. Besides, your parents weren't married when you were born, and they haven't been at any point since then, so no child your dad had with your mother would've been declared his legal heir. You aren't a princess because you aren't the_ legitimate_ daughter of a prince. You're _a _daughter of a prince. There's a distinction. Your dad could make you a Lady of Genovia, maybe, one day, but you wouldn't be a princess in the legal sense unless there was no heir of your father around, and he had no other children. Until and unless your dad isn't getting married and having legitimate kids with someone, you're heir by default, but not law. Make sense?" Nick wrapped an arm around Mia's shoulders, to help soothe her clearly-frazzled self. But she was calming down already.

Speaking slowly, Mia asked, "So . . . unless my Dad gets married and has legit kids, I'm heir, but with no responsibilities to Genovia until I am declared a princess. But unless that happens, I'm still just plain old Mia?" She definitely preferred THAT over anything else.

Nick nodded. "Plain Old Mia with a royal father who could petition to be gentry one day, but yeah."

Mia grinned, all stress gone. "I can live with that."

And so, Mia went home that summer comfortable in the knowledge that at least now she knew _why_ Grandmere was such a head case, and why she insisted on making Mia learn to do stuffy, formal stuff she had no interest in, but also wouldn't affect Mia in any real way in her actual, New York City life. It would just be a private Miragnac-based thing that never left Miragnac, like that time with the pears and the bees.

But then. A year after Nick told her the truth, and a month into her freshman year of high school, as she failed her way into first-year Algebra with an 'F', and her mother started dating that same Algebra teacher, and she has a big stupid crush on the hottest guy at Albert Einstein High School, her mother sits her down after school on a Tuesday, and says:

"Oh, Mia," Helen's face worried, "honey, your father can't have any more children. The chemo's left him sterile."

"Oh." Said Mia blankly. And then her mother's words actually sank in.

_Oh._

_Oh no._

_Oh __**no**__._

This was bad. On numerous levels, this was **bad** with a capital B.

She had to be a princess now.

Oh, **crap**.

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Please forgive the bad French, my only resource was Google Translate.


	2. If I am a Princess in Rags and Tatters

**If I am a Princess in Rags and Tatters**

Francis Hodgson Burnett, A Little Princess.

;;

So, for the last year, Mia had lived comfortably with the information that A) her father is a prince, and B) at no point in her future would she have to deal with this in her day-to-day life. Granted, the thought did cross her mind when the doctors confirmed her Dad had cancer, but his reassurances that he wasn't going to die of it, that it was treatable, made Mia put it out of her head. But now – now the whole royalty thing was going to be a Thing for her, wasn't it?

Her Dad wasn't married, as far as she knew, Mia was his only kid – unless something was seriously up, she was a princess. _Please god no. DO NOT WANT._

Maybe if she kept her fingers crossed and wished really hard, there'd turn out to be some secret back-up heir who'd get the throne after her Dad.

Oh wait. _Mia_ was the secret back-up heir, wasn't she?

UGGGHHH.

Well, Mia was just gonna play dumb until and unless her father told her so himself. No sir was she gonna ruin her own life just yet.

Besides, she had her own problems, what with her mother dating the teacher of the Algebra class Mia was failing SO HARD she had to stay behind from school _every day_ in an attempt to raise her grade; her body basically ignoring the fact that Mia has definitely hit puberty, and just generally dealing with Lilly and her TV show, as well as other school stuff in general. Mia doesn't need a new princesshood to make her – admittedly really bad – hair go grey before the age of twenty.

But still, she played stupid and asked her mother, "Why does Dad have to fly all the way over here to talk to me about he can't have kids?" mostly because she wanted to gauge the situation annnd – her mother's reaction confirmed it. No amount of crossing fingers and wishing on stars was gonna save her here.

Crap. Mia's a princess.

;

Venting to Nick was the obvious reaction – he'd have an answer about how to handle this situation. It was something Mia'd always admired about him, that Nick always seemed to know how to handle everything.

**FtLouie:** Did you ever think that the thing you warned me about last year would actually be something that would actually effect me?

**HalfAgonyHalfHope:** I'd considered it, but it'd always seemed less than likely. Your dad's cancer wasn't a secret. I figured there was a _chance_, but thought we could burn that bridge when we got to it.

Nick's screen name was a quote from the Jane Austen book _Persuasion_, one of his favourites. All of Austen's works were actually his favourite – Mia hadn't actually read any of them, she'd tried, but the language was too dense for her. Nick had made her promise she'd try again in a few years and see if she'd like them then – she'd liked the movies of the books though, so at least she'd understood some of his references.

**FtLouie: **We've gotten to it. What am I going to do?

**HalfAgonyHalfHope:** You're going to be a princess. Get used to it, because this isn't going anywhere, and there's no escaping it. You have my deepest sympathy.

**FtLouie:** You're a lord.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope:** A lord who was raised to be one. Before now, at most you could've been raised to Lady, or Duchess. You're being thrown right into the deep end. Do you think you know how to swim?

**FtLouie:** Maybe not. Maybe there's another heir.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope:** Yeah, your second or third cousin or something. But he's a fashion designer – I've met him, and let me tell you, no one in Genovian government wants that guy running the show. It's your dad, and now it's gonna be you. Your fate is sealed. See you in Genovia when they drag you over here.

**FtLouie: **No way am I moving.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope:** What, you think they'll let the crown princess and heir to the throne grow up and be educated in ANOTHER COUNTRY without any education about her future job?

**FtLouie:** I can learn here. New York is the best city on the planet.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope:** 14th biggest population, 1st biggest ego. If you're not coming here, then your Grandmother is probably gonna come to you. Dowager Princesses are historically the teachers of the female heirs for their roles in the Genovian court.

**FtLouie:** 1) She's in France, 2) Dad hasn't even gotten here yet, I don't know the full situation, and 3) even if Grandmere comes to NYC, that means I can escape her.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope:** We'll see about that. Good luck, Princess :p

;

"Lilly, my dad's coming into town for a bit."

"Why? It's not your birthday, or your mom's, and unless he actually just want to yell at you in person about your Algebra grade-" Lilly's face was all scrunched up as she tried to read the Spanish-written signs on the subway.

"He wants to talk to me about this whole infertility thing, I guess. It's probably a shift in perspective for him or something." Mia was twitchy, and trying to hide it. She drummed her fingers on the subway pole she was holding for balance.

"Well that's telling. He's probably got unresolved issues with his parents, if he's concerned about being a parent himself."

"_Duh_. Grandmere is a _huge_ pain in the ass." And if Nick's foreboding IM was accurate, she'd end up being an even bigger pain in Mia's.

Lilly cocked an eyebrow at Mia. "Well, I can't comment on that, given that I've never met your grandmother. I wonder if your father is afraid of losing his youth. My mom says that many men equate losing their virility with losing youth."

"I wouldn't know about any of that. I'm just irritated that he's going to be staying at the Plaza. I hate having to go there; the staff seems to have a vendetta against me. Last time I was there, they wouldn't even let me in the door because I was wearing shorts, and it literally took me calling my dad from the concierge to even get in past the lobby. I'm going to see him tomorrow."

"Well, maybe this just means he's going to spend more time with you, if he's re-assessing his whole existence as a parent post- _this_."

Mia had a gut feeling Lilly was right. Just probably not for the reasons Lilly was probably thinking.

;

As per Mia's prediction about the Plaza, she was held at the entrance by the doorman despite the fact she was wearing her school skirt instead of shorts, probably because the uniform made it clear she was a minor. It took Mia waving over the attention of the concierge and spitting out her father's name for them to let her in. Perks of royalty, maybe.

Meeting her dad at the Palm Court was something she'd always enjoyed doing as a kid, because the atmosphere and food always made Mia feel fancy, like a princess being doted on in a palace. The irony was not lost on her. Her dad looked . . . maybe not nervous, but uneasy when he saw her, but he hid it well enough to give Mia a hug before sitting down.

The standard conversation minuate occurred, and Phillipe started in on the conversation Mia had been expecting for about three days. "Mia, I want you to know the truth. I think you're old enough now, and the fact is, now that I can't have any more children, this will have a tremendous impact on your life, and it's only fair I tell you. I am the Prince of Genovia."

Mia just sipped some tea, keeping her eyes wide and face unsuspecting. Like she had no idea what he was saying. Like this was completely new information. "So . . . I'm a princess now? Because I'm your only kid?"

"Ah – yes." Phillipe nodded. "Your mother and I agreed when you were born that a palace is no place to raise a child – as my own upbringing can attest. Of course, I wasn't expecting her to raise you in an artist's loft in Greenwich Village, but I will admit that it doesn't seem to have done you any harm. In fact, I think growing up in New York City has instilled you with a healthy amount of scepticism about the human race at large – something that never hurts to have. What I'm trying to say is, your mother and I thought that by not telling you, we were doing you a favour. We'd never envisioned that you might actually be required to succeed me to the throne. But . . . well, you're right, honey. You are the heir to the throne of Genovia."

Mia just sat in silence, letting her expression tell it all. Uncomfortable and pretty far from happy.

"Mia, I'm sorry. Honey, you'll be able to make something out of your life despite this. You can come back to New York and visit your mother and friends as often as you want, but, honey –"

Mia cut him off, her expression immediately changing to a scowl. "No way Dad! I'm not moving to Genovia or whatever you're about to say. I'm staying in New York. End of story."

"Mia –"

"No! No way! I can't! I won't! First of all, I'm only _decent_ at French, and mostly only when Grandmere's the one speaking. It's why I only average a B in French class. I'm not _moving_ my entire life to a country where I don't speak the language well, where people are going to judge me for my accent when I know that European people don't like Americans very much – and, what, am I supposed to leave Mum and Fat Louie and all my friends behind? No!" Mia was speaking quickly, all her attention being paid to making sure her father understood that No Way Was She Moving. She was getting angry.

"Mia, sweetheart, you have to understand –" Phillipe was gaping like a fish. Mia was probably giving away her position of the situation – maybe her dad was realising that Mia was more aware and prepared for this argument than he was.

But Mia's preparation for the argument didn't mean she wasn't as upset as she would have been without her fore-knowledge. Tears had formed in her eyes and were starting to drip down her face.

"What I _understand_ is that you and Mum have LIED to me my entire life, and the ONLY reason that you're telling me the truth NOW is because it's become_ necessary_ to YOU. At NO POINT did you even think that my DAD being _royalty_ was something I might need to know before now, and your way of telling me all of it is by also announcing that I have to _move across the planet to another continent_ so I can be of _use_ to _you_. Instead of being HAPPY at the home and city and country where I've spent my ENTIRE LIFE. No. No WAY."

And, well, with that last word, Mia threw herself out of her chair, snatched up her schoolbag and raced out of the building – and her long legs meant that she was out all the doors of the Plaza and on the street before Phillipe was able to leave the Palm Court.

Mia sprinted down the busy street, dodging people on the sidewalk and only barely managing that. She threw herself down the entrance to the subway system, knowing that she'd get home before her mother arrived back from her studio, no matter how frantic her father was when he undoubtedly did call her.

;

Barricading herself in her bedroom wasn't difficult – some quick snagging of food from the kitchen, plus some for Fat Louie, a brimming water bottle, and a chair wedged under the door handle so it couldn't be opened from the outside, and she was untouchable. Her mother wasn't home before Mia'd gotten there, but there was no way Mia was coming out of her room. She had her cat, her things, a private bathroom, and a computer she immediately turned on to contact the only person in her life that could possibly understand what was going on in her life right now without needing two hours of explanations.

**FtLouie:** So the thing happened.

**FtLouie:** It was a disaster.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope:** It's 10 at night right now for me. What, did your dad pull you straight out of your school?

**FtLouie:** I have math review after school for an hour every day. I met with Dad after. Can you FOCUS please?

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **On what? Your dad is a prince. You're a princess. This is going to affect you for the rest of your life, and therefore it will be that much harder. Welcome to the world of being a Young Aristocrat. It sucks.

**FtLouie:** What am I going to do? Dad told me that he was a prince, and then immediately announced that I have to MOVE to GENOVIA.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope:** Told you so.

**FtLouie: **You're being very unsympathetic. I don't want to move!

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **One upside: you'd see me a lot more.

His light sarcasm radiated through Mia's computer screen.

**FtLouie: **OK, true. It would be cool. BUT, one downside: I'd be living full-time with GRANDMERE!

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Fair.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope:** Look, you can talk your dad around to your side. He loves you. He wants this to be something that will work. But you have to compromise with that. You can't sit around complaining that you have to be a princess, even when it sucks (and it will!), otherwise you're just going to be miserable. This all sucks, but you have to own it. Tell your friends.

**FtLouie: **How? I can't tell my friends! Lilly's anti-royal! She'd NEVER understand!

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Maybe not. But would you rather have no one to talk to about all this?

**FtLouie: **I have you.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope:** Thank you, but I think you'd feel better being able to talk to someone whose life isn't six hours ahead of yours. I'm supposed to be getting ready for bed right now.

;

It took Mia being barricaded in her room for almost four hours before it sank into her parent's brains that no, Mia was Not willing to move to Genovia to learn to be a princess in a future she didn't want; and her father was just going to have to deal with that fact.

"This can either be a discussion on my terms or not one at all, Dad!" Honestly, she was mostly just quoting some of Nick's IMs, but she figured they wouldn't know about that. "It's MY life you guys want to uproot, which means **I** should get the final say!"

When they eventually coaxed Mia into the living room, Mia was scowling and fully defensive; her parents were desperate and uneasy.

Mia bit into her cheeks and squeezed her eyes shut – the pain hurt, but it stopped her tears from spilling. She was angry – and she was right to be! – but she hated making her parents upset with her. How was this fair?! How were her parents expecting she'd be _happy_ about this?!

"So I guess you figured I'd be a doormat about this then, huh?" The words were blurted out, all in a rush, the most New Yorker sentence Mia could muster, and also a total accusation.

"Mia – Mia, honey, no." Helen was probably trying really hard to get a sentence together, but Phillipe beat her to it.

"The plan was to move you to Genovia because you are the _Genovian Princess_ – it was the most logical decision. You can't rule a country you don't live in, Mia."

"I don't WANT to rule a country, Dad! I don't want to move – you aren't giving me an _option_, but you could at least _pretend_ like you aren't FORCING ME to live a life I've NEVER wanted!" Mia yelled.

Helen had taken the role of mediator – a role she was never very comfortable with, but this was clearly a conversation of two extremes. "Okay, okay. Phillipe, you need to tone it down, because this isn't getting us anywhere." Phillipe looked offended, but Helen ignored him, pulling their daughter onto the futon next to her. Mia refused to make eye contact. Helen brushed Mia's loose hair behind her ear.

"Okay, how about we start from the top. Mia, when you were born, your father, his mother and I all agreed that I would be the one to have custody of you – your father needed to marry someone appropriate and have children, and I'd never wanted that sort of thing-" Phillipe cut Helen a stare, which she ignored. "Although one could argue that fourteen years would be long enough to find a woman who did," Helen cut Phillipe a glare, which he valiantly ignored, pretending he wasn't the same man who had a new supermodel girlfriend every three weeks whose names Mia never bothered to remember the moment the woman was gone; "because we wanted you to grow up as a normal girl, free of the complications having a royal father would bring you."

Mia just glared at the blank TV.

"The plan was to tell you when you were eighteen, or when Phillipe got married or had another child to be heir, whichever came first." Mia scoffed, but said nothing. Helen continued, "but now things have changed, honey, and so our lives do to."

That got Mia's attention, in the form of a glare. "_Our_ lives, Mom? _You're_ not the one who's going to be uprooted to Genovia. What, you're going to give up art, and your life here in New York and live the rest of your life as a Duchess in Genovia or whatever, walking one step behind me and Dad forever? You'd hate it. _I'd_ hate it too, but _I _also don't **get** a choice."

Helen nodded, acknowledging the unfairness. Phillipe sat down on the chair next to the futon and decided that, since Mia was – if not calmer, then unlikely to scream and lock herself back in her bedroom – and interjected, "But I think the initial plan of relocating you to Genovia will have to be scrapped, given your . . . feelings on the subject –" Mia snorted. "So, instead your Mother and I have agreed that your royal training will happen here, in New York."

Mia snapped her head to face her father. "What?" she breathed, her eyes wide circles. Helen smiled gently, like trying to reassure Fat Louie into getting off the top of the cabinet.

"You're going to stay here, in New York, to finish your time at high school, and we'll continue with the same arrangement we've been having since you were a child, with your school breaks being spent in Genovia. We can reassess as time goes by, but the point is that, barring my own untimely death, your life will be as normal as a princess in training can be."

"What does that mean?" Mia was squinting with suspicion.

"You'll have a bodyguard – should we deem it necessary, mostly when you're in Genovia, unless this is all found out – the plan is to keep this as something of a secret from the general public, if we can. You'll be driven to and from school, and after school will be your lessons in how to be a public figure in the capacity of my heir."

"Princess lessons – what would those mean?"

"Oh, the usual things, dancing, etiquette, speech-giving, that sort of thing."

"Grandmere's already hammered a lot of that into me. It's literally all she does when I'm under her thumb at Miragnac."

Phillipe blinked. "Oh. Well, I'm sure my mother will find more to teach you."

What? Grandmere was in France.

Still, this was all a better outcome than Mia was expecting, so she agreed to it all.

;

The next day at school – thankfully, bless fully, a Friday – Mia was . . . not out of sorts, or upset, but she was kind of listless and lacking in attention. Her friend, Tina Hankim Baba, was the first person to bring it up in a way that got Mia to actually admit there was something wrong.

"Mia," she had to gently snap her fingers a couple times to get Mia to look up from her lunch, "Mia, is everything okay?"

Mia looked at Tina from where her attention had been on her salad. She wondered – what to say? Tina was easily the sweetest friend she had, and she'd definitely never judge Mia for her new princesshood the way Lilly definitely would; she'd probably be super excited over the situation. They'd made friends the first week of freshman year, when Mia had decided to sit with Tina after realising that the reason she sat alone was because people made fun of the fact Tina had to have a bodyguard – her super-rich father was terrified of Tina being kidnapped or something, so she had to have Wahim follow her wherever she went – school, home, the bookstore just two blocks away from her apartment building.

Mia'd become friends with her because, honestly, she could relate. Not in a major way, not at the time, but she'd realised that in another life, if Mia had been raised as royalty, instead of Nick telling her about it when she was thirteen (and now her Dad making it official), Mia'd probably grown up with a bodyguard following her every step. And to have people make fun of her for something her Dad had decided? That was just straight up **mean**. So, that second week of classes, the first Monday, Mia'd sat with Tina and beckoned her friends to join her once they got into the cafeteria. And it was friendship from there on.

So, _was everything okay_?

Uh.

"Yeah, no, I'm fine." Mia lied. She hated doing it to Tina's face – not the way she hated lying to Lilly, but Tina's big brown eyes always made Mia feel guilty when she looked right at them and told a fib. "My Dad's in town now, and we have dinner last night and talked about his whole _– situation_; I guess I'm just kinda bummed that he's taking it so hard."

Tina smiled sympathetically. "Yeah, I can get why he'd be bummed that he can't have more kids, but maybe you guys can look on a – well, not brighter side, but an optimistic one: he's got you, and why he want more than that?" Coming from someone else, that could easily be an insult, but Mia took it in the good faith it was meant in, and she smiled at the complement. Tina continued, "Besides, maybe this means he'll find more time for you, you know? You'll see him more often."

Mia thought about the threatened Princess Lessons. "You're probably right, Tina."

;

Friday night was Helen's date with Mr Gianini – which was in _no way_ an awkward conversation to have between Mia, Helen and Phillipe, not at _all_ – so Mia and her father had dinner together in a far more relaxed restaurant than the Palm Court that night.

"Does it have to be Grandmere who teaches me?" Mia didn't want to sound whiny, but there was really no helping it. Clarisse Renaldi was her keeper for all her summer breaks, and as such, Mia'd already had basic etiquette drilled into her from a young age – Grandmere had been lecturing her on the proper way to sit, stand, sit down in a skirt (of any length) without being 'immodest' – which just means not letting your underwear show; walking in high heels, dining etiquette of all varieties (while also making it clear that Mia's vegetarianism was not something she approved of), horse riding (honestly one of the few joys Mia ever had at Miragnac); and the most recent summer gone she'd hired a vocal coach to teach Mia how to _sing_, of all things, three times a week; and whenever Viscount Mabrey wanted Nick to 'have company' (which in hindsight was translated as: have my nephew be in close proximity and confidence of the Dowager Princess and Genovia's unofficial heir, whom my nephew is close in age with and with whom he gets along well, therefore giving me some leverage with our Crown Prince), semiformal dancing lessons also occurred in Miragnac's ballroom – although they often only lasted as long as Grandmere could be bothered, at which point Nick and Mia dissolved into silliness and goofy dance-offs and Grandmere went off to smoke her cigarette and have a Sidecar.

So how much 'princess training' was Mia going to have to suffer, if she'd already been forced to cover the basics of it all?

"Yes, Mia." Phillipe sounded tired, as if Mia's ongoing assertiveness about her situation had drained him. Perhaps it had, what with Phillipe still being in recovery from chemotherapy and all. Mia felt bad for basically haranguing her cancer-survivor dad, but if he thought he could uproot her whole life without asking her opinion about it, then she only had minimal sympathy. "It is the duty of the Dowager Princess, whomever she is, to be heavily involved with the raising and education of the heir to Genovia. It's what we've been doing for generations."

"Previous generation's Dowager Princesses weren't GRANDMERE, Dad. Last summer, you know, when she FORCED me to take singing lessons – even though I don't and have NEVER wanted to sing – the lady she hired was the sort of person who made my _lift the grand piano_ and _sing_ to enforce me singing from the 'diaphragm, NEVER the lungs!'"

Phillipe finally bothered to look Mia in the eye. "Is that why the floor was always so scuffed after your lessons?"

"_Yeah_, Dad." How was that what he noticed? Phillipe sighed, sipping the glass of scotch he had in his hand.

"Mia, I know my mother is – _difficult_, to put it mildly, but she is a good teacher. She taught me all of my etiquette skills, and now I have a reputation for having never said an inappropriate or ridiculous thing in public in my entire adult life. It won't be torture."

"Grandmere hates me. It will be." Mia bit into her vegetarian pasta, hard, as if to punctuate her sentence.

"My mother does not hate you, Mia. She just doesn't know how to relate to you, and frankly, I'm fairly certain she's stopped trying at this point. So instead, she treats you as she would a peer."

"Dad, how many painkillers are you taking a day?" Mia scoffed. "Grandmere doesn't treat me _as a peer_, she treats me like I'm a cross between a child and something she scraped off the bottom of her shoe. Not being able to understand someone does not mean you can't treat them well. Grandmere just likes torturing me, and I _guarantee_ that THAT is what my lessons will be. Torture."

;

**FtLouie:** So, the plan right now is: I spend HS in NYC, live in Genovia during the summer, and apparently Grandmere is coming to NYC to lecture me into becoming a princess so I don't embarrass the entire dynasty.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **So, better than expected?

**FtLouie:** I guess. Although it did take a three-hour siege of my barricaded bedroom for them to get the message that hey, maybe I'm not very enthusiastic moving to Europe a month into freshman year to be a princess.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope:** So you've chosen private American schooling over being castle-schooled, huh? I know people who would happily kill you in exchamge for not having to go to private school.

**FtLouie: **Hey, I might not love my school, but I know I prefer it over whatever I would've ended up with in Genovia.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **No school uniforms?

**FtLouie:** Very funny.

;

And then, after an uneventful weekend, Monday and Tuesday, disaster came on a private jet to one of New York's airports.

**FtLouie:** So at what point was anyone going to mention that GRANDMERE was going to be arriving in New York?!

**HalfAgonyHalfHope**: Wasn't the 'your grandmother will be teaching your princess-ness' an indicator that she'd be involved in this?

**FtLouie:** Yeah, but I figured that'd be over the summer! Or after Christmas! Or at literally any point that wasn't THE MIDDLE OF THE WEEK FIVE DAYS AFTER MY PRINCESS-NESS IS A THING I HAVE TO DEAL WITH!

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **They want to get you started early?

**FtLouie: **Oh my god, she's going to hate it here. Should I call the president and tell him she's here? If anyone can kickstart World War Three, it's her.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Mia –

**FtLouie: **She's literally going to hate every aspect of New York. If she ever comes to the Loft, she's going to lose her mind – she has a fit if she sees two people of the OPPOSITE sex holding hands, if she's here for Pride she will LOSE IT. And dear god, the LOFT?! She'd have an aneurysm! Not just over Fat Louie, because she hates cats, but also Mom's collection of fertility statues – like, they're REALLY explicit! It's also against the law to smoke in restaurants here, and you know how she gets when people tell Grandmere she can't smoke.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope:** Maybe all these aneurysms will be a final straw and she'll go back to Miragnac and insist on only teaching you when you're in Genovia.

**FtLouie:** You know my wishes never come true.

;;

* * *

SO, yes, this is a replacement of the original second chapter of this story, mostly because I 1) didn't really like how I'd ended that chapter; 2) the original plan was for all of book 1 to be a oneshot, but it turns out I have No Patience, so instead I'm trying for a two-shot rewrite of each book. More or less. The deviations from canon are going to get moreso from roughly the second book onwards.


	3. I can be a princess inside

**If I am a Princess in Rags and Tatters**

;;

So seeing Clarisse Renaldo for the second time in as many months was about as much fun as it ever was (read: it wasn't).

The main differences were mostly the window dressings – the suite Grandmere had in the Plaza was very pink, all over the place – pink flowers and cushions and carpet – whereas Miragnac (while still quite pink, due to some redecorating Grandmere had had done after Grandpere had died) was more in shades of cream and gold and light blue, more of a pastel country house of gentry in a period film, rather than the pink imitation the Plaza seemed to be going for.

It actually felt weird, for Mia, to see her Grandmere in a setting that wasn't Miragnac – after all, they rarely left the chateau once Mia got there for the summer.

Clarisse was, as per normal, decked out almost entirely in purple - her favourite colour – high-end fashion and crusted with jewellery that probably cost more than anything in Mia and her mother's entire apartment, even on her shoes (Why on earth would someone make shoes with diamonds sewn on? Really, why? Besides making the owner of such a pair of shoes come off as even richer and more snobbish about it than they already were?). Rommel was, of course, shivering his way through life as Clarisse clutched him in her arms; and she smoked her way through insulting Mia's entire appearance before dismissing Mia out of the room in under fifteen minutes because Clarisse had a dinner date.

Essentially, it was the average re-run of Mia's first day at Miragnac every summer – the mid-afternoon arrival and Mia's tiredness included.

Although this time around, it did include Mia being granted homework on the first day of it all – usually, giving Mia chores in etiquette was a second-day thing back in France. The chores? Oh, just a thousand-word essay on the women Mia admires most in the world and why, as well as a uniform-esque appearence for her to wear from now on! Nothing at _all _time-consuming or potentially princess-secret-busting happening here!

UGH.

;

And with the fear of her Grandmere's wrath, general displeasure, and control over her after school social life hanging over her head, Mia typed up the stupid essay/list thing – actually, it was pretty easy once Mia actually thought of women she admired, to the point she actually went over the set word count Grandmere had set.

But the pantyhose thing? The lipstick thing? That was gonna take more than half an hour to figure out.

To be clever, Mia borrowed some black nylons from her mother, as well as a lipstick, went to school with the annoying shoes that Helen had originally bought for Mia to go to school in (before Mia tapped that AEHS teachers didn't care too much about student's footwear, just so long as they didn't have to see any toes, and Mia joined the rest of the school in wearing whatever black shoes she could be bothered with), and she'd . . . _tried_(?) styling her hair, mostly by putting some little braids in and using them to keep her hair off her face. She'd even dug out a ribbon the same blue as her uniform and tied the braids with a bow, so, ta-da! An Effort Was Put In.

But instead of just letting one visible difference slide for once, Lilly felt the need to comment, mostly on the ribbon, asking, "So, Anne of Green Gables, ready for school, or shall we wait on your flock of sheep to turn up as well?"

Still, the day was uneventful, and after her math-not!detention session, Mia snuck into the ladies room and changed into the stupid nylons and shoes, and smudged on the bold-pink lipstick. It was a colour her mother actually didn't wear all that much – she preferred a red, but Mia figured that anything that looked that nice on her more olive-skinned mother wasn't a colour Mia would be able to wear well; and she was hoping to avoid being insulted _too_ harshly by Grandmere, if she could. By the time she was fully prepped, she thought she looked pretty . . . almost pretty, actually. And she figured that she'd be safe from scrutiny until she got to Grandmere's, right up until she walked directly into Michael Moscovitz and dropped her entire bag on the ground.

"Christ, Thermopalis? What happened to _you_?" Michael's brow was furrowed, and he looked really cute. Michael was always cute, not that Mia would ever admit as much to Lilly except maybe on the pain of death with the guarantee that she'd die immediately after admitting it. It's awkward to admit to your best friend that you've had a half-crush on her brother for about two years, when you started to notice that boys can actually be cute. But just because Michael was cute when he frowned doesn't mean Mia wanted him looking at her so suspiciously. "What's with the war paint?" Michael went on, his eyes flicking over her appearance.

"Review session with Mr G-" was Mia's blurted out answer, "I stay behind after school every day-"

"Yeah, I know that," Michael interrupted, "but why are you –" His eyes widened, like he'd realised something. "Thermopalis, are you going on a _date_?"

Mia laughed in his face, standing up. "God, no! I'm meeting with my grandmother, she's in town-"

"You wear pantyhose and lipstick to meet your grandmother?" Michael didn't sound like he believed her.

Mia stopped laughing and arched an eyebrow. "My grandmother is a rich old French lady who likes to think society stopped moving forward the day Princess Grace died, and she gets mad whenever someone brings up that it has. Yeah, I wear pantyhose and lipstick to meet my grandma. The other option is being scolded for being in public without them."

Okay, so actually a huge lie, but it's not like Michael was ever going to meet Grandmere, so Mia figured she'd be okay to lie. And that was when Mia noticed that she was being stared at, intensely, not just by Michael – who was staring like if he did it hard enough, he'd reconcile Mia's short description of her grandma with his own Grandma Moscovitz, whom Mia had met and was the exact opposite of Clarisse Renaldo in every way – but by the scattered remains of the Computer Club that Michael was treasurer of. Their stares – they were mostly boys, actually – made Mia feel like there was some bug crawling on her skin. She needed to get out of there.

"Okay!" She said loudly, really uncomfortable in the attention, "So I'm gonna go-" Mia grabbed her things out of Michael's hands where he was holding them after collecting them off the floor. "And see my grandma now. Don't tell Lilly you saw me, okay?"

Mia brushed past Michael, who was kind of gaping like a fish at her face, actually, and just barely kept from sprinting to the door, where Lars was waiting with the limo – she'd told him that he could get away with not being stared at this late in the afternoon after school that he could come straight to the front door (probably shouldn't have done that. Anyone who saw her get into the car could kickstart a rumour Mia didn't need to deal with right now).

And Mia's first official princess lesson was horrible, as she expected. Clarisse kicked things off by saying the shade of lipstick Mia was wearing made her look like a _poulet_, which – it's rather rich for the sixty-some lady dressed all in purple with tattooed-on eyeliner, draw-on eyebrows, and chain-smokes like it's the only thing keeping her alive to say her granddaughter looks like a prostitute because of _lipstick_ – also didn't help; and Clarisse's review of Mia's essay/list was to tear the whole thing up and throw it in a bin, so all in all, exactly the sort of reaction Mia had been hoping to avoid.

Whatever.

Then, they spent two hours with Grandmere insistently hammering posture and seating etiquette – it was actually a thing that they did every time Mia came back to her Grandmere's, because Mia stubbornly refused to 'sit like a lady' unless she had to, and Clarisse insisted that Mia always forgot how to be ladylike (personally, Mia just thought that Grandmere was running out of etiquette things to lecture her on, so she insisted on hitting the same beats all the time for Grandmere's own amusement). And finally, at about 6pm, Mia was bluntly told to go home, because Grandmere wanted to bathe before preparing for some dinner with some politician, but not before being informed to cancel whatever Saturday plans she had, because Mia would be spending the day with Grandmere.

Mia did actually try to protest this, because Saturday was when she helped Lilly film for her cable-access show, but actually she wasn't as upset as she claimed – Lilly's plan for the next episode involved confronting the owners of the deli near AEHS, who were giving five-cent discounts to students of the same ethnicity as the owners, but not anyone else. Mia got why Lilly was so mad, kinda, but figured that it was a big deal being made over five cents, especially since, again, it was _five cents_ off the original tagged price. So being forced to miss the filming of Lilly harassing the deli owners wasn't really something Mia was upset over, so much as the principle of the thing, as well as the fact that Lilly always got really pissy whenever something inconvenienced her when she had a plan.

;

Okay.

Okay, when she agreed to be the princess without complaint (or, well, minimal complaint), at NO POINT did anyone say anything about makeovers. Okay? AT NO POINT.

So, please appreciate for a second exactly how _pissed_ Mia is right now, because – her hair is gone. Okay, that's a lie, it's actually more of a pixie-bob thing where she has hair long enough to pin with bobby-pins, but short enough to show a good 90% of her neck, which, FYI, NOT a feature of hers that Mia's ever really loved. And she's blonde now. She _was_ a brown-blonde just a few short hours ago, but now she's a blonde that's eerily reminiscent of Lana Weinberger, which is probably an aspect of this that Mia hates the whole damn most. Oh, and the fingernails-things – those are a thing. Specifically, they are little fake nails glued onto her real nails that, okay, she always had a nail-biting problem, but that doesn't mean she wanted FAKE ones. She keeps scratching herself with them.

Also, the scratchy facial that no one thought to ask her if she wanted, the very forceful eyebrow and upper lip waxing, and finally, after completely altering Mia's entire appearance, Grandmere then dragged Mia into just about every high-end fashion boutique that was willing to completely empty themselves out on a Saturday so that the Dowager Princess of Genovia and the still-secret heir could go shopping for clothes that the still-secret princess heir really, truly, genuinely did not want, would not wear, and was therefore just a waste of money.

She told Grandmere all of this too, by the way.

She told her that under no circumstances would Mia ever wear Chanel skirts, Dolce & Gabbana tops, Gucci shoes, or Christian Dior underwear which, by the way, didn't even come in the size of bra Mia actually wears. Literally all of the clothing bought totalled up to a higher bill than the one the vet gave Mia and her mother after he'd removed the sock that Fat Louie once ate. The difference is, that Mia got to go home with her pet cat afterwards, whereas this time, she went home with half a wardrobe of she didn't want and wouldn't wear, as well as a haircut she didn't want and that would attract stares the _second_ she set foot in school on Monday.

She told all of this to her father, the second she got home. Why was her dad at the Loft when she got home, despite the fact that he and her mother generally couldn't get along for more than twenty minutes at a time if left alone together? Mia didn't know; Mia didn't care. Phillipe Renaldo had made the mistake of being there when Mia was steaming mad, so he had to deal with the consequences.

"First she gives me homework. Then she rips it up because she doesn't like what I wrote. She forces me to learn how to sit down to two hours – which, by the way, she does every summer whenever I make the mistake of slouching in front of her. Then, she drags me to a salon where the staff there cut and colour my hair without asking me, pour hot wax on my face to rip out hair without asking me, and glue tiny surfboards to my nails without asking me. THEN, she spends four hours dragging me around stores for stupidly expensive clothing I don't want and will never wear, and make me look like the mean, snobby girls at my school." Phillipe had the expression of someone who completely understood Mia's grievances, but was going to side with Grandmere anyway, which just made Mia angrier.

"Dad, at NO POINT during our little 'you're a princess whether you like it or not' tit-for-tat, did you ever say that I should have to be okay with Grandmere taking complete control over my life and appearance! Dad, WHAT THE HELL?! I know I don't look at ALL princess-y, but this crosses a damn line!"

Helen was watching her daughter and her ex with the attention of someone witnessing a public breakup scandal while eating in the park – utterly entertained. Phillipe nodded, once, before pulling out his wallet. "So how much?"

Mia was suddenly tired, after yelling. "What?" she asked, exasperated.

"How much money do I have to pay you, Mia, to let my mother turn you into a princess?" Phillipe said this like it was a completely reasonable sentence. Mia was appalled. So was Helen.

"Phillipe," she said in a warning tone, but Phillipe himself kept his gaze firmly on Mia.

"I'm serious here, Mia," Phillipe said, "if our initial agreement isn't enough to appease you about this, then becoming a princess can be a job. I will pay your salary. So. If you will agree to let my mother do whatever she feels is necessary to make you into the princess you are going to have to be one day, Mia, I will set up a bank account for you, and put money into it for every day my mother spends teaching you to be a princess, and all it entails. Holiday breaks included."

Mia opened her mouth to argue about personal integrity and not selling her soul for a profit, but she only got about two sentences in before Phillipe heaved this huge sigh and amended his offer. "Fine. If you do this, I will donate one hundred dollars a day to this salary we are making. Twenty dollars into your personal account, and eighty dollars daily to – what is it you love so much? Greenpeace. In your name, Greenpeace will receive eighty dollars in donations daily, and you will get twenty dollars daily as a stipend."

Phillipe stared his politician-stare into his daughter's gobsmacked face. It was the same one Helen was making. "Do we have a deal?"

They did.

;

**FtLouie: **You know what I love? When my friend turns around and says that there's something seriously wrong with my personality because I cancelled plans for one (1) day! Like, oh, I'm sorry, Lilly, I had no idea that the 50,000+ people of Genovia mattered LESS than your CABLE ACCESS SHOW WHERE YOU HAVE US ALL HARASS PEOPLE.

**FtLouie:** Yeah, sure, it was actually a total makeover I didn't even WANT, but she could've at least heard me out before jumping down my throat.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Okay, I'm out of the loop here. What's happened?

**FtLouie:** Grandmere decided that she didn't like my looks, so she dragged me downtown to get a full physical alteration without asking my opinion instead of my usual Saturday helping Lilly with her show. I'm blonde now, is the point.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Ah. And Lilly didn't like this?

**FtLouie:** No.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **And now there's a feud?

**FtLouie:** Probably? She hasn't called to apologise.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Please give me a run-down here. I'm a bit lost.

**FtLouie:** So, Grandmere is giving me princess lessons now, right? So last night, she says that I have to clear my Saturday so that we can something something princess lessons. And I hate this, but I do, making Lilly mad at me, because she wants to call a boycott of the deli near our school (it's a thing involving a five cent discount and the fact that the owners are Asian-American). So I'm not at the filming, because Grandmere likes making my life difficult, and I'm getting a makeover that I a) don't want, and b) am not being consulted on.

**FtLouie:** And then, I go over to Lilly's to help edit the film, as I promised as a compromise for not being there during, and she's just like, 'Oh my god, Your hair's yellow. You have fake fingernails. You let me down over my arbitrary and frankly small-minded soapbox complaints over Ho's Deli. You look like Lana Weinberger. How dare you say no to me.'

**FtLouie:** so I snap and yell and storm out, and now I'm at home while my Mom is on a date with the Algebra teacher who makes me stay behind after school every day to study so I don't fail.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Is the makeover really that drastic? To provoke a reaction that bad?

**FtLouie: **I mean, I don't like it, but mostly because it makes me look like a bad imitation of Lana Weinberger.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Email me a picture.

This took a minute, as Mia had to drag out webcam and boot the thing up, before taking a rather grainy photo.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **I mean. It's different, but I wouldn't say you look bad. You look good.

**FtLouie: **No I don't! I look like Lana!

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Never met her. But this also isn't flattery. You do look good – you've got the cheekbones for the hair.

**FtLouie: **Stop lying to make me feel good.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **You know, you've got this bad habit of fishing for compliments, and then disregarding them once someone gives you one. You. Look. Good. You look **blonde**, but you've got the colouring for it.

**FtLouie: **Really?

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: ****Yes.**

**FtLouie:** Oh. Well.

**FtLouie: **Thank you.

**FtLouie:** So how's your week been?

**HalfAgonyHalfHope:** Relatively uneventful. Uncle is in Italy this week and the next, visiting some friends or allies or whomever, so he's not here to yell at me for getting detention.

**FtLouie:** What did you get detention for?

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Arguing with my literature teacher. We're reading the Lord of the Flies this week, and they tried the whole 'the point of this book is that people are inherently chaotic, and the removal of power structures causes us to devolve into lawless animals'.

**FtLouie: **Isn't that the point? That's what people have always told me, when we watched that movie in middle school.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Yes and no. I know it's a popular reading of it, but the author literally wrote Lord of the Flies as a reaction to a bunch of Robinson Cruse-type books about boys from a British boarding school, and how they washed up on an island and had lovely adventures and were the perfect pictures of British superiority compared to the savages on the island who were, conveniently, people of colour who were also Not British.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Lord of the Flies was a reaction to that, saying 'Hey idiots, have you forgotten what boys are like? This is what would actually happen'. It's been theorised that a rewrite of the book would go very differently if it were boarding school girls, or people of lower classes, because girls at the height of the book's setting were taught to be kind and considerate of others, and people of lower social classes are generally more compassionate;

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **As opposed to the upper-classes of Britain, where a lot of emphasis is put on social standing and personal empowerment, rather than the betterment of society as a whole.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Pointing this all out to my teacher did not go over well for me.

Okay, Mia has to ask. What the hell kind of private school for rich kids does Nick go to, and what kind of people are they, because every time Nick talks of them, he never sounds like he's having a good time.

**FtLouie: **Did you research all of that before you had to read this book?

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Yes. I read the book on a recommendation from my uncle a bit back, because Machiavelli is his whole worldview, and I went out looking for alternative ideas.

**FtLouie:** So you had all the information compiled already?

**HalfAgonyHalfHope:** I'm a fan of getting all my ducks in a row, yes.

**FtLouie:** I've noticed.

**FtLouie: **Thank you for getting my mind off the Lilly thing, too, by the way. Now I'm just going to be thinking of Lord of the Flies all night.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **You're welcome :p

;

Oh god, why why why? Why did she have to stand up for herself last night, why didn't she just roll over and show Lilly her belly, if only so that she could've stayed the night and avoided seeing . . . _that_.

How is she ever going to pay attention in Algebra ever again, if all she can do in that class is revisit the mental image of Mr Gianini in his boxer shorts at her dinner table?!

GOD.

;

Okay, so that was a slight overreaction, and Mr Gianini would undoubtedly just have to deal with Mia staring off into space a bit, because it turns out that, uh, he's pretty cool? Or at least he knows how to make a joke.

God, if he and her mom become more serious . . . well, eh, would it be so bad? Mr G is probably one of the better teachers at AEHS, despite Mia's own inability to get anything he says about math.

Ugh, let's not think about any of that at all, thanks.

;

**Iluvromance: **Hey Mia. I know this is a random question, but did something happen between you and Lilly? I just ask because I was just IMing with Lilly and mentioned you, and she went off on this massive rant about how you're a - well, it wasn't nice.

**FtLouie: **Yeah. Uh.

**FtLouie:** I went over last night to help edit, you know, after I'd missed yesterday's taping, and. Well.

**FtLouie:** The whole reason I had to miss the taping was because my grandma is in town and she wanted to spend yesterday with me, which it turns out is code for 'force Mia into a makeover without asking whether or not she wants one', and now I'm blonde. And it freaked Lilly out.

**FtLouie:** Which is fair, kinda, because I freaked out when I first saw it, but then she went off on this whole rant about how I have no spine unless it suits me, and how dare I say no to her, and now I look like Lana Weinberger and some more awful stuff, so I snapped and told her to shut up. Which just made Lilly get worse, and now I think we're arguing?

**Iluvromance: **Oh. Wow.

**Iluvromance:** Okay, that explains some of it. Are you really blonde now?

**FtLouie:** Yeah. It's sickening.

**Iluvromance:** I'm sure it isn't, and besides, Lilly saying you look like Lana can't be true anyway – you two look nothing alike, and besides, hair grows out. You'll look back to normal in some time, so freaking out about a haircut isn't warranted.

**FtLouie:** Thanks, Tina. I needed that.

**Iluvromance:** although I would suggest that you don't expect an immediate apology from Lilly. She sounded really mad.

**FtLouie:** Really? Aw geez. Who am I going to sit with a school tomorrow then?

**Iluvromance:** Well, the whole 'Ho-gate' thing seems like it's actually going to be a big deal, if Lilly has her way, so we'll probably actually need to sit somewhere else tomorrow. How about you and me find our own table instead of worrying?

**FtLouie:** God, yes. You're such a good planner, Tina.

**Iluvromance:** ! Thanks! And don't worry so much about Lilly, I'm sure she'll get over it!

**FtLouie:** I hope so. I hate fighting with her.

;

Okay, so Mia didn't even know that Michael had her IM email, never mind that he would contact her after what happened with Lilly.

**CracKing: **Hey Thermopalis, what happened last night? It's like you went mental or something?

**FtLouie: **For your information, I did not go mental. I just got tired of your sister always telling me what to do. Not that it's any of your business.

**CracKing: **What are you being so snotty about? Of course it's my business. I have to live with her, don't I?

**FtLouie: **Why? Is she talking about me?

**CracKing: **You could say that.

**FtLouie: **What's she saying about me?

**CracKing: **I thought it wasn't any of my business.

**FtLouie: **It isn't. What's she saying about me?

**CracKing: **That she doesn't know what's with you these days, but ever since your dad came to town, you've been acting like a cagey head case.

**FtLouie: **That's rich – I'M the head case? She's always putting me down, and now my grandma's in town too, I don't need two people insulting everything I do – I'm sick of it! If she wants to be my friend, she needs to get off her high horse – she's always going on about people should be judged for their actions, not their looks, but when _I_ am dragged into a makeover I don't even want, I'm the one turning into LANA?!

**CracKing: **You don't need to yell.

**FtLouie: **I'm not yelling!

**CracKing: **You're using excessive amounts of punctuation, and online, that's the equivalent of yelling. Besides, Lilly's not the only one criticising. She says you won't support her boycott of Ho's Deli.

**FtLouie: **Well, she's right. I won't. It's so stupid, don't you think? I mean, who cares about five cents anyway?

**CracKing: **Sure, it's stupid. Was the makeover really your grandma's whole deal?

**FtLouie: **Yep. I got to hers, and she says 'Let's go', so we go to a stylist's and they sit me down in the chair and by the time I realise what's happening, the guy's cut three chunks of hair off and my grandma's scowling at me so I don't say a word. So I'd just spent the whole day being insulted for my looks, and then I get to Lilly's, and she's decided to insult my entire personality too. I cracked.

**CracKing: **Yeah, okay. That makes more sense now. Are you still failing Algebra?

_That _was a subject change.

**FtLouie:** I guess so, but given that Mr G slept over last night, I'll probably manage a D. Why?

**CracKing: **What? Mr G slept over last night? At your place? What was that like?

**FtLouie: **I didn't mean to admit that. It was pretty awful, but he kind of joked around, and that made it OK. I don't know. I think I should be more mad, but my mom's so happy, it's hard.

**CracKing: **Your mom could do a lot worse than Mr G.

**FtLouie: **Given that I have met some of mom's exes, I get what you're saying. And yes, I am including my dad in that number.

**CracKing: **Whoa, really? Ha.

**FtLouie: **Given his recent interference in my life, yeah. Why'd you want to know if I'm failing Algebra?

**CracKing: **Because I'm done with this month's issue of CrackHead, and I thought if you wanted, I could tutor you in G&T. If you wanted.

**FtLouie: **Oh my god, that would be so great! Thanks!

**CracKing: **Hang in there, Thermopalis. Nowhere to go but up when you're at the bottom.

**FtLouie: **Bold of you to assume that I'm at the bottom. Or that I can't find a shovel to dig deeper.

**CracKing: **Ha ha. You'll be fine.

;

So on Monday, Lars, the driver of the limousine Mia's dad had insisted she take to and from school every day since her royal status was Agreed, dropped Mia off at school, where she immediately got slapped in the face with a petition to boycott the Ho's Deli. Lilly moves fast when angered and holding a grudge.

Mia rolled her eyes at Boris Pelkowski, the Russian violinist student holding it. She shared Gifted and Talented class with him, but where Mia spent the class either doing homework or trying to study Algebra, Boris spent the class practicing his violin concertos – a practice that, due to the volume level of his violin, had led to the habit of Boris being locked into the G&T room's supply closet, in an attempt to muffle the sound and give everyone less of a headache. Lilly had been crushing on Boris basically since the second day of school. Mia was more ambivalent.

When she told him she wanted no part in the boycott, though, Boris got rather indignant, telling her that in Russia, signing a petition would often result in that person being arrested by the secret police, and not demonstrating Mia's own American right to protest was disrespectful to his own home-country's struggles.

Mia told him that she was demonstrating her American right to protest – she was protesting the persecution of the Ho family, who had been enacting their own American rights of conducting their business how they wished.

Which was clearly not a stance that she had public support with – even if she and Lilly weren't feuding, there probably wouldn't have been a spot at their normal lunch table for Mia to sit at; instead it was full of people trying to organise a public protest outside the deli, including posters and chants that the students could chant at the Ho's themselves and the customers still using their 'racist' service.

Mia stared rather dead-eyed at the display from the table she and Tina had snagged. All this mess over five cents? Now she knew had Aladdin felt, being chased all over Agrabah by the city guards, over a loaf of bread. Jesus.

Tina was up getting herself another soda, Wahim in tow. Mia felt . . . weird, about the whole bodyguard thing. Part of the reason she wasn't thrilled about the princess thing - beside the complete alteration of what her life had been - was that . . . if she had to have a bodyguard, would she ever have privacy again? Like, Tina didn't seem to mind all that much, but she'd had a bodyguard since she was in elementary school, almost. She'd said that she'd just gotten used to it, but Tina's mom had told Mia, that time the two of them had a sleepover at Tina's earlier in the semester, that Mia was really one of the first people outside the 'Arabian sheik' world that the Hakim Baba's inhabited to try to befriend Tina. So, the bodyguard . . . sure, Tina didn't mind, and she and Wahim seemed to have a, an older cousin/brother interaction happening, where Tina didn't make a fuss about Wahim's flirting with Mademoiselle Klein, the French teacher, and Wahim didn't tell Tina's dad about her habit of putting on makeup after leaving the house – Mr Hakim Baba being one of those dad's that didn't want their daughters to wear makeup. So having a bodyguard probably wasn't all bad, once you got used to it. That didn't mean she wanted to get used to it.

Mia was reading the blurb of the romance novel that Tina had brought with her to school that day – one amazing thing about Tina, her taste in books. Mia hadn't really been interested in the genre, but Tina coming into her life had broadened Mia's horizons in the BEST way, literature-wise – and a shadow fell over Mia's head.

She turned around and came face-first with the tight white sweater of the Albert Einstein High School Cheerleading squad, as worn by one Lana Weinberger. So, to explain Mia's complaints about being made to look like Lana from two days ago, a brief description of the prettiest girl in the ninth grade: she's about five-foot-six, with long, shimmering blonde hair, her blue eyes are always highlighted perfectly on her face by flawless makeup, and the only time her berry-pink lipgloss is out of place is after she's been kissing her boyfriend where he's shoved Lana up against Mia's locker. Yeah. For the last month and a half of Mia's first year in high school, Mia has had a locker directly next to the locker of the most popular and handsome boy in the school: one Josh Ritcher, senior-year student. Who has been dating Lana for almost that entire time. So, daily, Mia has had the utter _pleasure_ of watching the two of them make out against the two lockers, often unable to get into hers.

Lana's kind of been Mia's nemesis since their middle school days – Mia had corrected Lana on Lana's interpretation of a book they'd had to read for class, just by saying that Lana was misremembering which character was which. And then Lana had tried to make Mia's life a living hell ever since. 'Tried' being the operating word – hasn't Mia proven she's more than able to ruin things for herself all on her own?

So here she is, staring up at Lana's smug, snotty face – not often a position Mia was in, given Mia's height over the rest of her grade level, normally making Mia look down on most all the girls in her grade – as Lana raised one finger and placed it firmly on the parting in Mia's hair. "Nice hair, Amelia," Lana said in a snotty voice, "are we aiming to be Tinkerbell for Halloween?"

Yeah, Mia's hair had been a note of attention for her classmates basically the whole day. Few had actually asked her anything about it, but she'd heard girls whispering about it in class. She hadn't done much to mitigate the attention she knew she'd get, more aiming to brush it off as none of anyone else's business – she'd just kinda brushed it out of her face and shoved it behind her ears. At a distance, Mia had decided that Nick was right – it wasn't a _bad_ look on her, the blonde brought out her grey eyes better than her natural colour did, and she _did_ have the cheekbones for it – but she still hated that Grandmere hadn't even given Mia warning about the change. Or the option to say no.

Mia glanced behind Lana, to where Josh Ritcher and his jock friends were sitting for lunch, talking about how they were all somehow still hungover from a party they'd been to on the weekend. She had to wonder if their coach knew.

"What do you call this colour, anyway? Pus Yellow?" Lana continued, not apparently aware of Mia's non-focus on her attempts at witty commentary. Mia knew she looked okay – Tina and Ling Su and Shameeka had all complimented her new haircut, despite Mia's own disinterest in her makeover. Lana was just flinging rudeness.

Tina finally came back to the table, bringing two sodas – one for her, one for Mia. Mia smiled gratefully at Tina and Wahim, but the bodyguard and his charge shared a glance before Tina cocked an eyebrow at Mia. It said 'how do you want to handle this?'

Mia wanted to handle it by letting Lana run out of steam and go away, but Lana was like a terrier – once she had something, it was really hard to get to release her grip. And because of Mia's wish to avoid conflict, Lana naturally turned her teeth to Tina. "Oh, how sweet. Tina, tell me, does your daddy give you money every day to keep paying people to be your friends, or can Mia be bought with soda every day?"

Tina gaped at little, at that. Lana had actually been ignoring the friendship between Mia and Tina for a while, actually, preferring to target Mia only. Wahim opened his mouth to say something, but Mia beat him to it.

She stood up, cracked open the can of soda Tina had given her, and, using the three inches of height she had on Lana, as well as the element of surprise, poured the soda can all over Lana's pretty blonde hair.

Lana was so shocked that she didn't say anything until no more soda spilled out of the can. But once done, Lana's voice sliced through the dead silence the cafeteria had become – everyone had stared, dead silent, for the ten full seconds Mia had poured the soda on Lana's head. "You – you –!" Lana stuttered, then screamed, not really in words, but more the shock of someone who doesn't know what to say.

Mia kept her face blank, but walked around the table to Tina, grabbing her friend's hand. "Let's go somewhere a bit quieter, yeah?" Her voice was steady, the shock of what she'd done and the trouble she was definitely going to get in not getting to her yet.

She and Tina walked out of the room, Wahim following with a hand over his mouth, desperately attempting not to laugh; when they passed the table they usually sat at, Lilly was staring, round-eyed and shocked, at Mia. Guess Mia wasn't as unassertive as Lilly thought, huh?

She wasn't sure, but applause may have come from the lunch tables the Geeks sat at too, as she left.

* * *

Originally, this was going to be a three-chapter retelling of the first book, and this chapter would end with Mia being ousted as a princess, but the chapter ran away from me.


	4. and be a Princess all the time

**If I am a Princess in Rags and Tatters**

;;

Of course, Mia'd had to have been really stupid not to expect Principal Gupta wouldn't find out about the soda-dumping, so when Mia got into Gifted and Talented without being called in, she spent every five minutes being distracted from Michael's tutoring to watch every person walk past the classroom door, anticipating the order to the school office.

She really shouldn't have let herself get distracted, because Michael's help was desperately needed if she wanted to raise her F grade into something passable. When he walked her through the equations in her worksheet, she almost understood everything he said and how it all worked. Almost.

Of course, even without her impending disciplinary chat with Gupta, she still probably would've been distracted anyway, what with the sensation of Lilly staring daggers at her head – not that Mia could confirm it for herself; every time her head went up to look around the room, Lilly's head went down to focus on what she was calling the Ho Offensive, the next step in harassing – sorry, combating the racism in the neighbourhood.

Or she just would've gotten distracted by her _tutor _from being tutored – Michael, in close-up, is just as cute as he is across a room, and he even smells good, like soap and clean-boy (it's one of the reasons she likes Nick, actually, this nice scent where his smells like grass if he's been in the garden, or chocolate or vanilla if he's been baking, overlaid with just _clean_-_boy_), and sometimes reaching across the table to take the pencil from her hands and be all 'Like _this_, Mia'.

But then the stupid hall pass arrived with Mia's name on it, thus dragging her out of G&T and dumping her into the uncomfortable chair in Principal Gupta's office.

She wasn't ashamed of what she'd done – she'd never done anything like it before, but that didn't mean she hadn't enjoyed it a little. Mostly she'd been running on the sharp, tunnel-focus that happened whenever she got screaming mad – it was the same focus that had provoked her anger at Lilly on Saturday, but this was the first time that kind of rage ended up becoming something physical. Whatever. Lana deserved it – she'd been terrorising Mia since middle school, and two weeks ago, Lana had flicked her hair all over Mia's desk during Algebra from her seat in front, snagging onto Mia's pencil and dragging a great big line all over the paper. Thursday last week alone, she'd looked down Mia's shirt when Mia was getting her things from her locker, sneered, and gone "Oh, that's sweet. I see we still can't fit into a bra. Have you considered just slapping some band-aids on?"

So what, was Mia supposed to _apologise_? No way. Forget it. Lana was never going to let this go, so why would Mia be willing to?

Principle Gupta was staring at Mia over the top of her reading glasses, concern writ all over her face. Mia sat in her chair, unrepentant. "I'm not apologizing," said Mia, her voice flat.

Gupta raised her eyebrows, "I beg your pardon?"

"Lana has been bullying me since we were in middle school. She was bulling me at lunch today, and then she started taunting my friend. It was provoked. I'll pay to have her uniform dry-cleaned, if you want, and you can give me detention for a month or whatever, but I'm not apologizing." She could feel her heart thumping harder in her chest, but refused to have any fear in her voice.

Gupta somehow looked more concerned. "Well . . . you've admitted it, I suppose. And yes, we were going to have you apologise and clean the uniform, but you've clearly made your mind up." She sighed. "Mia, I have to say, when Lana came in here with her complaint, I was extremely surprised. It's usually Lilly Moscovitz I have to pull in here. I never expected I was going to have to pull _you_ in. Not for disciplinary reasons. Academic ones, maybe. I understand you aren't doing very well in Algebra. But I've never known you to have a disciplinary issue before. Mia, I really have to ask . . . is everything all right?"

If this were a movie, there would be a record scratch right now. The screen would zoom in on Mia's face, and the voiceover would start. _Is everything alright?_ Uh. Well, let's think – one year ago, Mia was told that her father was the Crown Prince of a European country, and as his only living, recognised child, Mia was likely the default heir, but that was okay! Because her father was healthy and would get married and have more kids of his own at some point, so Mia didn't need to bother to care. But just two weeks ago, her father – the Crown Prince one – comes into her boring New York life and announces, darling, the testicular cancer I had has rendered me infertile. You are now the Official Heir. You are a Princess. And NOW, Mia is getting held back in school by the Algebra teacher who is dating her mother - and whom she walked in on eating breakfast in his boxers at her dining table – and then immediately going to the Plaza Hotel to be tutored by her harridan grandmother – the Dowager Princess of her father's European country, by the by – for a few hours so that Mia doesn't one day ascend to the throne of Genovia and promptly make an ass of herself for the world to see; so Mia generally gets home between 6 to 8 at night.

Oh, and she's spending her school days themselves being bullied by the most popular girl in ninth grade, feuding with her best friend, and being without a boyfriend. Is there anything else you'd like to know, Principal Gupta?

But since this isn't a movie, Mia just felt her eyes go round and pinched her lips into a very tight smile, and said in a tight, high-pitched, almost sarcastic voice, "Sure. Everything's _fine_."

"Really, Mia? Because I can't help wondering if this isn't all rooted in some problems you might be having – maybe at home?"

Mia was trying _really, really_ hard NOT to laugh. Problems at home? No, she couldn't possibly be having those!

"Mia," Principal Gupta continued, "I want you to know that you are a special person, with many wonderful qualities and skills. I've read your school reports – except for your math and sciences classes, you are a very good student. There is absolutely no reason for you to feel threatened by Lana. None at all."

_What?_ Mia _shouldn't _feel threatened by the pretty, popular girl dating the handsome, popular jock guy who insults and demeans and tries to humiliate Mia in public? Threatened? _Nah_.

"Truly, Mia. I really think that if you took the time to get to know Lana, you'd find that she's really a very sweet girl, just like you."

_Just like you_. Are we sure about that?

;

That little saccharine moment, on top of the week's detention Mia received, made Mia so upset that she spilled the whole situation to Grandmere and her dad that night – after talking her dad down from suing the school over the detention and Grandmere deciding to have their vocabulary lesson also stretch into dining etiquette, having Mia join the two of them in the Palm Court for dinner.

"When I was your age," Clarisse said in-between two courses, when Phillipe was taking a phone call outside the restaurant, "there was a girl like this Lana at my school. Her name was Genevieve. She sat behind me in Geography. Genevieve would take the end of my braid, and dip it in her inkwell, so that when I stood up, I got ink all over my dress. But the teacher would never believe me that Genevieve did it on purpose."

"Really?" this was the first Mia had ever heard of anyone, ever, taunting Clarisse Renaldo. "What did you do?"

Clarisse let out a rather evil-sounding laugh. "Oh, nothing."

Mia didn't believe that for a _second_, but Grandmere refused to say anything more, and instead lectured Mia on how not eating every dish put in front of her could lead to diplomatic disaster, so Mia got to spend five minutes explaining all the ways that she could get out of it. Phillipe came back to the table somewhere in the middle, and refused to back up either of them, because his phone call had been some dignitary from Spain he didn't like, and the conversation had given him a headache.

Mia ended the day with a headache too – with the addition of her detention on top of Algebra tutoring from Mr G, AND princess lessons plus the dinner, Mia wasn't home before 9:30pm.

UGH.

;

Tuesday unveiled a number of things that, while in no way worthy of a freak-out, still rankled Mia's nerves – Lilly refused to meet for a pickup again, and Mia and Lars agreed to stop driving by Lilly's until and unless they were on speaking terms again, to make better time to school; where it turned out that Lilly had a date to the Cultural Diversity Dance that was happening on Saturday – an actual surprise to Mia, because she'd been confident that all the boys in their school were terrified of Lilly.

Turned out there was one boy who wasn't: Boris Pelkowski, of the violin and tucked-in sweaters.

GOD.

So, what, Mia was good enough to be physically heinous to run a country one day, but not un-scary enough that LILLY got asked to the school dance and she didn't? Really?

Granted, Mia wasn't actually all that enamoured by the dance, but still! It'd be fun to go! To get dressed up and dance with her friends! Have A Good Time!

Ling Su had a date with one of the boys in her Art Club; Shameeka had a date in one of the boys on the school volleyball team; Lilly now had a date – even Tina, who wasn't allowed to walk the two blocks between her apartment to their school had a date in this guy Dave, who, sure, went to another school in Manhattan and whose father was the kind of stupid rich Tina's was, but still. People _asked_ them!

To be fair . . . she might have missed a chance to be asked out, maybe?

When Michael was tutoring her in G&T, he'd queried about how grounded she was, and when Mia'd said she wasn't at all, he'd made a sentence that, at the time, had sounded like the two of them should get together Saturday over something, but Mrs Hill, the G&T 'supervisor' (meaning that she spent all her time doing whatever in the teacher's lounger across the hall) had come back into the room to get the kids in there to take some survey, and Mia had assumed Michael was suggested they get together over the weekend for more tutoring and had booked it out of the classroom the second the class period was over; because who wants to do more homework on the weekend than they have to?

So . . . it was definitely more possible that Michael was just wanting to go over her long division, because he claimed it to be a human tragedy, or maybe it was an offer for the dance, but, frankly, Mia was willing to bet it was the Math thing, because she really didn't like to delude herself.

And no matter how cute Michael was, there was not a chance in hell of Mia willingly signing up for _more_ Algebra just to see him out of school.

;

Wednesday dawned to the sun shining through her bedroom window, as it always did. Fat Louie was perched on her windowsill, watching the pigeons on her fire escape with hungry eyes, as he always did.

It was the same sort of morning as every other morning, but something felt . . . _off_. Like she was in a movie, and the _Jaws_ theme was humming throughout her whole morning, as she was getting ready for school, as Lars dropped her off, as the students around her reacted to her presence. Normally, when she walked into school, there was a bunch of students hanging out, lounging on Joe and Jake, the stone lions by the entrance, smoking cigarettes and stuff that was more potent than cigarettes, talking about whatever and happily ignoring anyone passing by. Today, those students, while still smoking, where in clusters around one or two of the smokers, who were holding newspapers. And they all stared at Mia as she walked into the school.

_Daa-dum._

When she went into the girl's bathroom before class, a bunch of the girls in there that were doing their hair or makeup looked at her, started giggling, and rushed out.

_Daa-dum._

_Daa-dum._

_Josh Ritcher_ actually spoke to her. Two months of sharing the same locker bay, and him shoving his girlfriend up against Mia's locker door to make out, and barely a single word had passed between the two of them. And today, he just looks at her as she puts her bag away and is all "How you doin'?" like he's Joey from _Friends_, or something.

_Daa-dum._

_Daa-dum._

_Daa-dum._

Mr Gianini was the first to sound the alarm. He'd been walking to the train station he took to AEHS and had passed a newsstand. Splattered all over it, the _New York Post_, with MIA on the front page. A recent photo, actually. Probably from Monday night, when she'd had dinner with her dad and Grandmere. She's coming down the Plaza steps, not looking at the camera – how could she be, when she didn't know a camera was there? – kind of smiling. The headline read _Princess Amelia – New York's Very Own Royal_.

Mr G had called her mother, twice actually, but Helen was alternately in the shower or her studio, and heard the phone neither time. So, Mr G did something that was actually pretty gutsy, for the boyfriend of Mia's mom – he called Mia's dad. According to him, Phillipe Renaldo flipped a table – proverbially speaking – and immediately contacted Principal Gupta to have Mia pulled from her classes and into Gupta's office, for 'safety'.

So here Mia is, back in the chair she'd sat in just two days before to justify pouring a can of soda on Lana Weinberger's head. If the giant shark could please burst in and eat Mia alive right now, that'd be great, thanks.

Principal Gupta read the headline for Mia, and continued with the page 2 headline _Fairy Tale Dream Comes True For One Lucky New York Kid_, as the reporter put it. "You might have mentioned this, Mia, when I asked you if there was anything bothering you in your home life." Gupta said, kind of sarcastically, gazing at Mia over her glasses, probably thinking _really? THIS one is a princess?_

Mia cocked an eyebrow. She was trying not to show just how much this all rattled her. "Well, let's face it: it sounds kind of nuts unless you've got the newspaper backing you up."

"Very true," Gupta conceded, turning back to the paper. "It is rather unbelievable."

When her father finally arrived, it was mostly to thank Principal Gupta for . . . well, functionally 'holding off the horde' by keeping Mia in her office (what horde? Well, apparently, a bunch of news stations got a hold of the story and were waiting outside the school to get a picture of Mia) before Phillipe could get to the school.

Mia figured that with the whole mess, she'd get the rest of the day off school or something, but nope! Instead, she got Lars as a bodyguard. _Yippee!_ She's always wanted some big guy with a gun following her everywhere she went she thought _sarcastically_. And instead of getting the rest of the day of school, if only because that was as long as her peers' attention spans could last, and tomorrow they definitely wouldn't care; Mia instead got to continue the rest of her school day as per normal, as long as she could ignore the stares and the bodyguard and the growing mob of reporters outside the school.

Sure. Totally normal day.

;

The One sole upside to this hell-day was the fact that her detention had been cancelled – apparently, having reporters conduct a turf war over who can take a photo of you first is the equivalent of sitting silently in a room for an hour five days in a row. At least in terms of emotional strain, anyway.

The Approximately Ninety-Nine downsides started kicking in at lunch when, no joke, Lana Weinberger came up to Mia and Tina as they were ordering food and invited – or _ordered_ would probably be the more accurate term – Mia to sit with Lana and the Popular Table.

It took everything Mia had not to laugh in her face. Seriously?! Monday-Lana was teasing Mia over her haircut and picking on Tina, and Wednesday-Lana wants to sup her lunch next to Mia, just because a reporter decided that Mia was news-worthy?

It probably made a weird sight, for Lana, having Mia's face all twist and her eyes to grow wide and her eyebrows to somehow rise and scrunch, but that was the effort Mia needed not to crack up in her face. "No thanks, Lana," Mia said to the offer, "I've got a table to sit at."

Tina's eyes had been as wide as plates the entire time, and they didn't really get smaller until the two girls sat down. Lars and Wahim each got seats a little away, for the sake of privacy – it turned out, the two of them got along rather well, given their current conversation topic, the question of whose gun had the most firepower – and Tina asked in a small voice, "Are you sure you want to sit with me?"

Mia, starting to dig into her salad, was confused. "What do you mean?"

"Well," Tina picked at her own salad – she had something of a weight problem (in her own mind. Mia thought her friend was perfectly-sized) and was dieting to try to lose the weight for the Cultural Diversity Dance. Given that it was about three days away, Tina's goal didn't seem likely. "I know you don't like Lana very much, but . . . well, you could do anything, now. You're a princess, Mia. Everyone knows it, now. You could do anything, sit anywhere, no one would say a word."

Mia blinked at the words, but didn't think for a second before saying, "I'm sitting exactly where I want to, Tina. I'm not going anywhere, and I'm definitely not trading my friend for someone who just wants to hang out with me because I have a fancy tiara."

That got a smile from her friend, the tension leaving Tina's shoulders. "Do you actually have a tiara?" she asked.

Mia thought for a second, "Yeah, probably. I can't imagine I'd ever get to wear it outside of, like, formal functions or whatever," she grinned at her friend, "so don't expect me to come to school wearing one or something."

Tina laughed around her bite of salad, "It'd be cool if you could though."

Mia knew it was a joke, but the idea had brought back a memory, just of the summer gone by. She and Nick had been relieved of any real plans for their day, and taken the opportunity to ride Nick's horses into the nearby town – well, not into the town, but to the farmers market that had been happening just outside it. It'd been a fun day, with the sun shining and everything smelling like popcorn and baked cakes, and Mia had bought some cakes and apples and Nick – well, it'd been a joke they'd been making, about Mia's non-royalty-royalty status (oh, how irony has bit her in the butt), but Nick had bought Mia a little tiara made out of twisted-together gold wire and glass beads. It was a kitsch thing, purely for the aesthetic of it, but she still had it at home, sitting on her vanity.

She missed Nick. He'd be fantastic in this situation.

;

Gifted and Talented offered up a wealth of potential distractions, from being the first class post-lunch to Mia's Algebra work (ugh), to Michael just existing, to Lilly glaring at her head the way she had all through lunch, to Boris scraping his way to Bach or whatever it was; but, because this is Mia's life here, she got to indulge none of that, as Michael brought up the pink elephant in the room the second Mia sat down.

In fairness, it probably had something to do with Lars walking in after her and sitting down, but they all could've at least _pretended_ life was normal, right? But noooo.

"So, Princess of Genovia, huh?" Michael said, "Were you ever going to share that little piece of info with the group, or were we all supposed to guess?" He sounded . . . unimpressed. It got Mia's hackles up a bit, actually. Like her royal status was really anyone's business!

"I was kind of hoping no one would ever find out?" It came out like a question, but her point was made.

"Well, that's obvious. I don't see why, though. It's not like it's a bad thing." Ha, Michael.

"Uh, try living it," was Mia's great comeback. "My life has just gotten about a hundred times more difficult."

"Did you read the article in today's _Post_, Thermopalis?"

"I_ was_ the article, Moscovitz. I don't see what more I needed."

Which was when Mia heard Lilly's voice for real for the first time since their fight. It was like she couldn't stand not to be involved in the conversation.

"So you're not aware that the Crown Prince of Genovia – namely your father," yes, well done Lilly. You've noted who Mia's father is, "has a total personal worth which, including real estate property and the palace's art collection, is estimated at over three hundred million dollars?"

It was pretty obvious Lilly read the article. Mia gave Lilly a very sarcastic look. "Yes, actually I did know that." Or that-abouts. Jesus, three hundred million? "But those properties and art are also inherited aspects of the Genovian Royal Family estate – it's the equivalent of a family heirloom being added onto your own personal net worth."

Which was a sentence that stopped Lilly's impending tirade for about two seconds before she barrelled on. "I _was _wondering how much of that fortune was amassed by taking advantage of the sweat of the common labourer, _Amelia_," Lilly said all snottily. "I suppose once you take out the land and art, that's what? Half?"

"More like none," Mia shot back, cutting off Michael, who'd opened his mouth to rebut Lilly, "given that the people of Genovia have traditionally never paid income or property taxes." Thank you, Nick's regular rants about his uncle's desire to impose taxes on his workers and staff to grab at their money.

Michael was smiling at – nothing? And Lilly was grasping at straws of her argument. "Well. I guess at the _princess_ of the country," she said this the way Mia imagined people during the French Revolution said '_the queen_', "you would be in favour of the excesses of the monarchy, but _I _happen to think that it's disgusting, with the world economy being what it is today, for anyone to have a total worth of three hundred million dollars – especially someone who never did a day's work for it!"

Michael cut Lilly right off, going, "I'm sorry Lilly, but it's my understanding that Mia's father works extremely hard for his country. His father's historic pledge, after Mussolini's forces invaded in 1939, to exercise the rights of sovereignty in accordance with the political and economic interests of neighbouring France, in exchange for military and naval protection in the event of war, might have tied the hands of a lesser politician, but Mia's father has managed to work around that agreement; and his efforts have resulted in a nation with the highest literacy rate in Europe, some of the best educational attainment rates and the lowest infant mortality, inflation and unemployment rates in the Western hemisphere."

Okay, so those were actually statistics Mia didn't know, but thanks Michael.

Lilly turned to her brother and said, "Shut up," before swivelling back to Mia and sneering, "I see they already have you spouting their populist propaganda like a good little heir."

Mia was dumbfounded at the accusation, saying, "I beg your pardon-" but Michael cut her off, sneering right back at his little sister, "Aw, Lilly, you're just jealous."

"I am not!"

"Yes, you are," Michael was smug, like he was enjoying making Lilly angry. "You're jealous because she got her hair cut without consulting you. You're jealous because you stopped talking to her, and she just grabbed Tina and kept on rolling. You're jealous because all this time, Mia's had a secret she didn't tell you."

Which prompted Lilly to just _scream_, red in the face, "Michael, SHUT UP!" the volume of which caused Boris to lean out of his supply closet to ask "Lilly? Did you say something?"

Lilly just yelled at him to get back in the supply closet. She spun on Michael, demanding, "Gosh, Michael, you sure are quick to come to Mia's defence all of a sudden. I wonder if maybe it ever occurred to you that your argument, while ostensibly based in logic, might have less intellectual than libidinous roots?"

Mia's vocab wasn't as great as she wished it to be, so she didn't quite get the question, but it made Michael start to go red for some reason, provoking him to sneer, "Well, what about your persecution of the Ho's? Is that rooted in intellectual reasoning? Or is it an example of vanity run amok?"

But before Lilly could talk back, he turned to Mia and just asked, "So does this guy-" he pointed at Lars, who had been watching the whole debate like it was a tennis match, "have to follow you everywhere from now on?"

Mia nodded, "Yup."

"Really? Everywhere?"

"Everywhere except the ladies room. Then he waits outside."

Michael was incredulous. "What if you were to go on a date? Or to a school dance or something?"

Mia scoffed a bit, "Well, given that no one's asked me, that's a non-issue; but if I were, I imagine Lars would come with." She shared a glance with the bodyguard – kind of hard, given that, for whatever reason, he was still wearing sunglasses indoors. Lars nodded the affirmative.

Boris leaned out of his closet again, interrupting everything. "Excuse me." That got the attention of the whole room. Boris tended to do that, what with his deep voice and loud violin; when he spoke, people listened, if only to know exactly how fast to herd Boris into the cupboard. "I accidentally knocked over a bottle of rubber cement with my bow, and it's getting hard to breathe. Can I come out now?"

The entire G&T class managed to scream a 'no' in unison, but the volume drew Mrs Hill into the classroom. "What's all the noise for? Boris, why are you in the supply closet? Come out now. Everybody else, back to work! I need to take a closer look at that article in today's _Post_."

;

**HalfAgonyHalfHope:** I heard the news. Congrats on being a celebrity now.

**FtLouie: **How do you know already?

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **I go to school in Genovia and our Crown Prince has just made international news with the split beans about his illegitimate heir. You're literally all anyone is talking about here.

**FtLouie: **Ugh.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **How bad are things where you are?

**FtLouie: **Well, I've got a bodyguard following me wherever I go, reporters camped on my school campus, and right now my parents are arguing over who told – Mom thinks Grandmere, Dad thinks it's my Algebra teacher because Mom's dating him.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Does your dad have a theory on how the teacher learned of your secret?

**FtLouie: **None that I can tell.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **So he's just bitter?

**FtLouie: ** What, that she's dating someone not him? I guess.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Well, if I were a gambling man, my money would be on Clarisse. I've met her. I could see her spilling the beans.

**FtLouie: **You think? I considered it, but I'm too much of a disappointment right now. I don't think I'm anywhere near ready for the spotlight at _Princess of Genovia_. I can barely manage to handle princess _lessons_, nevermind being Princess in _public_.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **She's throwing you in the deep end?

**FtLouie:** Maybe?

;

Too bad Nick wasn't a gambling man, because he would've cleared the sweepstakes. Or whatever the saying was.

Grandmere was the tattle-tale.

Phillipe and Helen were furious. Come to think of it, so was Mia. Thursday's Princess Lesson was supposed to be dinner, so that Grandmere could lecture her some more on her dining etiquette, but before they left the Plaza – because they had to have the lesson somewhere else (?) instead of the Palm Court again – she went back upstairs for five minutes, came back down, and the moment Mia and Grandmere arrived at their eatery, the place was mobbed with cameras. Using the one clue she ever used, Mia spun on her grandmother, confronting her over her actions and giving her a pretty decent The Reason This All Sucks And I Don't Want It speech.

She wasn't sure how much of it got through, but there were no more cameras outside when they left, so whatever. A battle was won, not the war.

Speaking of battles, is Mia in one with the popular crowd?

Because after her rejection yesterday, Lana and Josh and the crew all apparently decided that if they couldn't convince Mia to come to them, they'd come to her. Which meant that, instead of a lunch-table consisting of Mia and Tina talking about romance novels and TV shows, and Wahim and Lars trading stories about their mutual military friends plus firearm comparisons, the table consisted of: all four of them, plus Lana Weinberger and the five other cheerleaders that went with her everywhere, and Josh Ritcher and the five jock boys that were dating the five cheerleaders, who also went with Josh everywhere. It was very distracting, and Lana kept trying to talk to Mia about a party that was happening at some point over the weekend, after the Cultural Diversity Dance, and does Mia want to come and get wasted?

Uh, no. Alcohol holds no real interest for Mia – unless she needs it to pair with her dinner food at Miragnac; and partying around people she doesn't know doesn't make her feel safe. But apparently those aren't good excuses, and therefore she is a 'square', which is an insult she didn't think people ever used outside of movies set in the fifties, but apparently Josh's friends like to imagine they're all in one. Whatever.

The important bit is that Josh, at their lockers after lunch, decided to agree with Mia, about something she'd said about alcohol being something she'll have with food, but not for leisure. She couldn't quite remember by the time she went to bed, but his attention . . . it made her feel tingly. But – not quite in a way she liked? It was like when she'd walked into Michael outside the Computer Club, when Mia was still trying to be sneaky about her Princess Lessons, and all the club members stared at her. Bugs on her skin.

;

LANA AND JOSH BROKE UP!

It's all over the school, and colour Mia impressed, but the cycle of interest in her lasted exactly as long as she expected – normally she's wrong about that sort of thing.

But yeah, apparently, they went on a date while Mia was shouting at Grandmere in a limousine, and Josh just flatly asked her for his class ring back in between the main meal and dessert! Which – Mia's never been dumped before, but as much as she doesn't like Lana At All – seems pretty cold, actually. Before classes started, Mia had overheard Lana on the phone to Bergdorf's trying to get them to take back the dress she'd bought for the Cultural Diversity Dance, despite Lana having already removed the tags; during Algebra, she hadn't paid the slightest attention to Mr Gianini, instead taking a black marker and crossing out all the places she'd written '_Mrs Josh Ritcher_' on her class notebook. Again, Mia didn't like Lana, but it hurt to watch.

;

Wow. That was completely random and unexpected. And unwelcome.

Look, Mia can put up with a lot, okay – Lilly's tirades and condescension about Mia's intelligence, prior to Ho-Gate anyway; Grandmere's existence in her life; her mom forgetting to pay the power bill so everything in their house shuts off when Mia's in the middle of a movie marathon; and she's putting up with the whole princess nonsense now – but having someone so transparently try to use her is smacking right on a last nerve.

Like, did he actually think that she'd fall for that even a little?!

Okay, okay, so – Lana and Josh broke up, whatever. Mia doesn't like Lana, and Josh is very pretty and yes, Mia's been harbouring a bit of a crush on him since school started, whatever – Mia's been harbouring a crush on Michael Moscovitz for two years, and this last summer she started to get very flustered at Nick's blue eyes. She's fourteen, she can have as many dumb crushes that'll never amount to anything as she wants.

But this nonsense –

She was at her locker, putting away her Algebra book at the same time Josh was collecting his Trigonometry things, when he turned to her in a completely casual manner and said "Hey, Mia, who are you going to the dance tomorrow with?"

Mia – at the time - was shocked at Josh speaking to her, and just about choked on her tongue before getting out a "Uh, no one."

So Josh – and here's the really important bit, because he had this look in his eyes, like her agreement was guaranteed – says, "Well, why don't we go together?"

Mia just kind of stared at him in silence, maybe even for a full minute.

You know how there's that little voice in your head, like the voice of your rational brain, well, the one in Mia's head just said, _He's only asking you out because you're the Princess of Genovia_.

To which the louder 'id' of Mia went _SO WHAT?_

And the rational-brain – her 'superego', we'll say – answered with _How about we don't date people using us for fame, huh?_

And because that was all the arguments her mind could make before her mouth caught up with her, Mia just blurted, "No. No thanks."

And she slapped her locker closed and spun on her heel, only catching a quick glance of Josh's face. The last time she'd seen a classmate that gobsmacked, a can of soda was being tipped on her head.

By G&T, it was all over the school. You know, Most Popular Senior Boy Gets Rejected By Our School's New European Princess. Like it was a headline. If it somehow wasn't leaked to the reporters still straggling on the school steps, Mia actually would've found herself rather surprised, honestly. It was THAT big.

Although, the reactions she was getting were rather surprising, actually. She'd been anticipating the general whisper-point-and-stares, but she was . . . actually getting admiring stares? Maybe? Not from the popular crowd, but like, the unpopular crowd? Well, people who didn't have a high opinion of Josh Ritcher, anyway.

One of those people? Lilly Moscovitz. Although she did decide to voice her opinion in a way that just got Mia in an 'I-didn't-freaking-ask' mood.

"I'm a little surprised at you, Mia. I didn't know you had that much integrity to reject your crush."

_Surprised at Mia's integrity?_ Was this supposed to be an apology or an insult? Mia clenched her teeth, gritting out, "Well, I guess I'm _full _of surprises, Lilly. You don't know _everything_ about me."

Lilly's reaction was – her eyes softened, maybe? Like she didn't mean her barb the way Mia took it? – and she just said, in a tone far less confrontational, "I guess not."

Michael was mostly the same as ever as he talked her through her Algebra work, but his air was one of satisfaction. Like something had happened that he felt almost-smug about.

Whatever. Mia was very decidedly Not Caring. God, she was ready for the weekend. Yes, she wasn't going to the school dance, but that wasn't exactly a special thing – generally, a third or a half of the student population didn't bother going to any of the school dances; the Winter Dance was in a few months, Mia could go to that one, if she wanted. Grandmere had given a promise of No Princess Lessons for the weekend, and Mia wanted to spend it doing exactly NOTHING stressful. She'd had enough stress this week.

;

That night, Mia was actually home in time for some dinner, actually. Grandmere had decided that the first week of their lessons, while not a success, _per say_, were enough for Clarisse to want to have half an evening off.

Every two weeks on Friday nights, her mother had a Ladies Poker Night, and it was a refreshing change – none of them seemed to care all that much about the Princess thing, except for some minor questions Mia didn't mind answering. They'd all been around Mia since she was a baby, so while it was new and surprising information, it wasn't really very important. Their attitude made Mia feel very grateful that, if nothing else, her mom's friends were always around to ignore Mia's stresses and just make some jokes she could laugh at.

Mia took her small personal pizza – vegetarian, because her mom had happily added to the dinner order when Mia got home early for the first time all week – and cuddled up on her bed with Fat Louie to watch her small bedroom TV. Lilly's show, _Lilly Tells It Like It Is_, was the owner of a regular Friday night spot, airing in-between the show about biker-gang members teaching people how to cook over an exhaust flame or in a flaming garbage can, and the show dedicated to finding the weirdest hole-in-the-wall shops in New York. Cable access channels tended to have weird things airing, because if you threw enough money at the station managers, then you got to be on TV.

Anyway, Lilly's show was dedicated to the Ho's boycott, which had been called off that day due to the lack of interest by their classmates. It'd been coming on all week – the Asian American students had started shopping exclusively at the Ho's, because if they got a five-cent discount, why not take advantage? And the school smokers didn't honour the boycott, because it was the only place close enough that they could go to and get more cigarettes in the middle of the school day; and since all the popular kids at their school smoked en-masse, the boycott had had trouble getting momentum.

Instead, the episode ended with Lilly sitting on her bed, probably filmed the night before. She gave a speech about how racism is a powerful force of evil that all people must work to combat. Even though to some, paying five cents more for a bag of potato chips might not seem like much, victims of real racism and prejudice would recognise that five cents was only the first step in the road to genocide. Lilly went on to say that because of her stand against the Ho's, there was a little bit more justice on the side of right today.

Mia still wasn't in favour of Lilly's actions, and she still found it all rather absurd, given the moral soapbox Lilly had been standing on for the whole duration, but Lilly's speech did hit a nerve in her. For all that Lilly could be difficult; she was charismatic and a magnet for interesting things, and she was _trying_ to make the world a better place. Mia missed her.

;

Mr Gianini came over to the Loft around lunchtime the next day, and he was actually proving to be Mia's favourite of her mother's boyfriends in recent memory. He didn't seem to care about sports very much, he had little wry jokes all the time that made her snicker, and given that he came in while Mia was working on some homework, he gave her Algebra stuff a quick look-over and – while not saying anything about the score she'd get back for it – told Mia she was improving a lot.

Mia swore she could _feel_ her mom's happy smile behind her.

Overall, everything was exactly as dull as she'd wished, right up until Sunday morning, when Tina called to invite Mia to join her and Dave and their friends for Chinese food and descriptions of the dance the night before. So, taking an extra twenty minutes out of the commute time to get Lars to come around, Mia got to Tina's apartment – her parents were out for the day, taking Tina's younger siblings with them – and she was rather surprised to see, instead of Tina's boyfriend Dave Farouq El-Abar, _Lilly_ was the other person at the apartment.

Turns out, Tina was rather tired of Lilly and Mia's silent treatment of each other – a stance Tina only had because she didn't have Gifted and Talented as a class – and was demanding that they talk things out. A peaceful reconciliation would be rewarded with Chinese food.

Mia just kind of stared down at Lilly from her height above. They were in Tina's living room, and Lilly looked about as ashamed of herself as she ever did when she knew she was in the wrong – which wasn't often, but Lilly, despite all interactions might suggest, actually hated being scolded. She could handle arguments with the deft touch of a true journalist, but actually being called out when she was in the wrong was not when Lilly was at her most graceful.

And graceful Lilly wasn't, as she gently talked about how she was sorry for making fun of Mia's hair, and that she understood how controlling she could be, and that her parents had theories that she had something of a borderline authoritarian personality disorder, and that she promised to make a concentrated effort to stop telling everyone, especially Mia, what to do.

Overall, it wasn't a perfect apology, or reconciliation, but Mia, Lilly and Tina ended spent the afternoon marathon-ing the TV show _Charmed_ and gorging themselves on Chinese take-out and ice cream, so Mia was counting everything as a Win.

;

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **So, the most popular boy in school dumps his girlfriend, who you don't like, and asks you to the school dance you want to go to, and you turn him down flat? Is that the plotline here?

**FtLouie: **Yep. I like to think integrity and basic human decency – as well as not giving in to people who only want me for my new crown – is more important than having a boyfriend.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Well, it's an argument I can agree with and stand alongside. Are you happy with how this has all turned out so far?

**FtLouie: **I think it's a still a bit too early to tell, but, yeah, actually. I'm choosing to be optimistic.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Good.

* * *

"Whatever comes," she said, "cannot alter one thing. If I am a princess in rags and tatters, I can be a princess inside. It would be easy to be a princess if I were dressed in cloth of gold, but it is a great deal more of a triumph to be one all the time when no one knows it." - Francis Hodgson Burnett, A Little Princess.

* * *

So, this is all of it. Or at least book 1 is.

A rewrite of the other books is something I'm toying around with - I DO intend to do it someday, but I've got other stories I want to finish first.

Yes, those other rewrites will have more Nick in them. It's the whole point of this series. Any of those will probably just get added to this fic, as one giant story, or (depending on me) be their own fics here on ffn.


	5. I Think as Hard as I Ever Can

**Think as Hard as Ever I Can of Being a Princess**

"When things are horrible – just horrible – I think as hard as ever I can of being a princess. I say to myself, 'I am a princess'. You don't know how it makes you forget." – Francis Hodgson Burnett.

Part 1 of Book 2 (Princess Diaries Volume II: Princess In The Spotlight)

;;

**FtLouie:** Hey, so I have a question I could use your opinion on.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Go for it.

**FtLouie:** Given my day-to-day situation of being a giant loser at school and also a newly-outed princess, just how badly do you think my personal stock at school would drop if my classmates were to find out that my mother is having a baby with my Algebra teacher?

**HalfAgonyHalfHope:** Your mother's pregnant?

**FtLouie:** I just said that.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **I can't imagine anyone at your school cares that much about your business. When it's in the tabloids, maybe they'll care for two minutes, but if the teenagers at your school are anything like the teenagers at mine, that's what I'd expect.

**FtLouie:** Nick, what? Of COURSE they're going to care! I'm a freak! A princess with a bodyguard following me everywhere and whose mother is dating our Algebra teacher! I'm a weirdo!

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Then they'll chalk it up to being one more Weird Freak thing about you. Besides, it's your private business, and I doubt any of your classmates care that much. Sure, the ones that already don't like you will probably say something, but it's not like it'd be different from anything else rude they might say about your mother and Mr Gianini.

**FtLouie: **Why does that somehow make me feel better AND worse?

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **It's a gift I have.

;;

So, how does Mia feel about the fact she's going to have a new baby sibling? Well –

She can't say she loves it.

Mostly because she's dealing with enough stuff – princess-ness, everything on the periphery of the princess things like paparazzi stalking her, passing her Algebra class, passing all her other classes – and now she's going to have to deal with her Algebra teacher probably being even more in her life. Mr Gianini seemed to be the kind of guy who stuck around when he got a woman pregnant.

Mia's mostly just trying to remain calm and chill about this – she's failing, but she is.

Why is her mother going through this _again_? Hadn't she learned her lesson with _Mia_? She'd already gotten pregnant with Mia when she was twenty-one, so she'd had to graduate college and enter into her career as an adult with a baby in tow. Her bastard royalty-related baby who, a decade and a half later, now will one day be Crown Princess of a whole damn country.

Wasn't raising one child on her lonesome enough of a life? Did Helen really want to do that _again_? Although, to be fair, Mr Gianini probably wasn't the heir to a whole country, nor likely to drag their child into international affairs as a political and public figure.

(Philipe Renaldo had caused a lot of _opinions_ in his daughter about her future, is the point.)

But also the new baby thing. Did her mother even _remember_ what being pregnant was like? Or how to have a healthy pregnancy? Mia knew that her mother's lifestyle was definitely different from what it was fifteen years ago – Mia was gonna need some information. How do you have a healthy pregnancy?

;;

Her English class had been assigned a journal by her teacher. To be read by her teacher. Apparently, Mia was supposed to record her deepest thoughts and emotions in the thing, and then turn it over to her teacher.

Uhh, Mia already _has_ a journal, and she doesn't even want to re-read what _she's_ put in the thing.

Well, Mrs Spears, hopefully you're in the mood for some nonsense lies edited into the shape of a diary, because that's what you're getting.

**Name: **Amelia Mignonette Grimaldi Thermopalis Renaldo. Mia, for friends and loved ones.

**Age:** 14

**School Yr:** Freshman

**Description: **Five foot nine, brown hair dyed blonde, grey eyes.

**Parents:**

** Mother **Helen Thermopalis

** Occupation **Painter

** Father **Artur Christophe Philipe Gerard Grimaldi Renaldo, called Philipe by family and friends.

** Occupation **Crown Prince of Genovia

**Marital Status: **Unmarried, either to each other or others. I was the result of a college fling, and if Dad asked Mum to marry him, she said no. Probably a good thing, because 85% of all the conversations they have are arguments. And they only see each other maybe five times a year (before now, that is. Dad is staying in New York City, presently).

**Pets: **One fat, Fat Louie. Orange and white, Louie is eight years old, and has been on a diet for approximately six of those years. Not that it ever works. One horse, Emily, although she stays in Genovia. Gray with white spots, Emily really belongs to my friend Nick, who lives in Genovia, and stays at his home, but Nick calls her mine.

**Friends: **My best friends are Lilly Moscovitz and Nick Devereaux. Lilly has been my best friend since kindergarten, and she's very, very smart and has her own public access show, _Lilly Tells It Like It Is_, and she's always thinking up fun things for us to do on the show, like film people we think are undercover cops interacting with actual cops in Central Park. Nick has been my friend since first grade, but he lives in Genovia full-time, because his uncle is Genovia's Minister for Agriculture. He's also very smart, but not in the same way as Lilly. Lilly's very interested in politics and social justice, Nick is an avid reader, even of things books that are really, really old. Like Jane Austen and the Bronte sisters and the 'Gothic genre', which I don't fully get or like, but Nick talks about them like he's doing a college degree on the genre.

**Address: **All my life, I've lived in New York City with my mother, in our loft in Greenwich Village. During my summers, I stayed in my paternal grandmother's chateau in France. For a long time, I was lead to believe that my father was simply a politician in Genovia, as a member of parliament or something.

When I was twelve, Nick realised I had no idea of the truth, and showed me the book of Genovia's royal family, proving that my family was royalty, and my father the reigning monarch. It was explained to me by Nick that I was a member of the royal family, but that I had no duties or obligations; until this last summer, when the resulting sterility from my father's chemotherapy rendered me the only living child he had.

**My Family History: **The ancestry of my family on my father's side can be traced back to AD 568.

That is the year when the Visigoth warlord Alboin killed the King of Italy and a lot of other people (hence **war**lord), and made himself king of the conquered lands. After declaring himself king, Alboin married the daughter of one of the king's old generals, Rosagunde.

But Rosagunde wasn't exactly fond of the guy who invaded her home and killed her dad, as well as forcing her to drink wine out of her dead dad's skull, so she got him back on their wedding night by strangling him with her long braids while he slept. With Alboin dead, the dead King of Italy's son took over. He was so grateful to Rosagunde that he made her princess of the area that now is the country of Genovia. According to the only existing records of that time, Rosagunde was a kind and thoughtful ruler.

She's my paternal great-grandmother by about sixty-ish generations.

On my mother's side of the family, the Thermopalises were goat herders on the island of Crete until the year 1904,when Dionysus Thermopalis, my maternal great-grandfather, couldn't take it anymore, and left the rest of his family to run to America. He eventually settled in Versailles, Indiana (pronounced Ver-sales, instead of the traditional way), where Dionysus opened an appliance and hardware store. His offspring have been running it ever since. My mother says her upbringing would have been much less oppressive, not to mention liberal, back in Crete with her cousins.

;;

So, Mia is apparently incapable to keep secrets anymore. The royalty thing broke her.

Or, at least she's unable to keep her secrets away from other people's suspicions. Mia really wished Lilly wouldn't read over her shoulder when she was on the computer. She was just looking up pregnancy facts, okay? It could've been for anything at all! Lilly, you really didn't need to be so loud.

Honestly, looking up pregnancy facts isn't even that weird, but when people are looking at you as your friend demands to know your business, all Mia wanted was for the ground to open up and swallow her whole.

Still, the suggested daily diet for pregnant women was . . . eye-opening, even though Mia knew without a doubt that her mother would be as interested in following it as Mia was at the prospect of eating meat – she wasn't.

;;

Apparently hoping for a few days of peace and quiet to digest the news that Mia could be expecting a new baby sibling in about eight months was too much, because Grandmere had cancelled her trip out of New York. And Princess Lessons were back on for the week.

UGH.

Why does Mia even NEED Princess Lessons? Grandmere isn't teaching her Genovia's history, or about its international relations with its neighbours, or even the policies involving immigrants or the environment. Grandmere was just thumping etiquette lessons into her head, which was something she'd done every summer Mia was with her at her chateau, Miragnac ever since Mia was about five. She's done! There's nothing left to teach her, unless Grandmere wanted to ensure Mia was flawless at each and every dance that could **probably** be at a ball. In every country in Europe. And Africa.

Clarisse once made Mia spend four hours on a random Monday in August drilling Mia on how to get every drop of soup in a dinner bowl without getting any on herself – 'Always, ALWAYS tilt the dish AWAY from you, Amelia!'

Four. Hours. When Mia was _seven_.

Mia can't stand her grandmother for maybe 99 reasons, and the etiquette thing was sixteen of them.

Whatever. Baden-Baden was having a baggage strike or something, and Grandmere refused to go anywhere she may have to deal with her own luggage in any way (all twenty bags of it), so Mia had to call her back immediately. Because Grandmere had a 'surprise' for her.

Grandmere's surprises were not, historically, heartwarming. Some twenty-five years ago, she'd 'surprised' Mia father by selling his favourite horse – who'd broken its leg, and Philipe had been crying for a full recovery – and exchanging it for a new one that was even bigger. Clarisse still insisted that a new, giant horse for a distressed ten year old was a kind thing.

Some people really shouldn't be parents, ya know?

;;

And some people really shouldn't be grandparents, either.

Mia wasn't sure if Grandmere was aware, but 'surprises' are often supposed to be _good_ things. Like, surprise! A new bike! Or, surprise! A here's a new TV to replace the black-and-white one in your bedroom, Just Because You Earned It Kiddo! Or something of THAT nature.

A TV interview with some news presenter – not two weeks after Mia made it CLEAR to her grandmother that she Does Not Want publicity about her life – is not a surprise. Well, technically, yeah it is, but it's certainly not a GOOD surprise. It's more along of the lines of surprise! You have three exams tomorrow that your teachers never mentioned, and also your mortal enemy at this school will be spending the entire time sitting in the seat directly in front of you, deliberately distracting you! Won't that be _fun?_

Ugh.

What the hell does Mia even have to say? Well, sure, if you're the right person and Mia's in the right mood, it's more difficult to make her shut up; but like, what does she have to say that will interest the entirety of America? She's a 14 year old vegetarian living in New York City with her single-parent artist antiestablishment mother, a middling student with only a handful of friends and no boyfriend.

This is not a life that is the majority of America.

Sure, she's a princess, but it's not as if she's _done_ anything yet. It was two weeks ago – she's been at school! The MOST interesting thing that's happened is Mia rejecting a boy to go to a school dance, and an argument with her friend. Who cares about that?

;;

Well, Grandmere is of the opinion EVERYONE must care, because apparently she just about started a bidding war amongst reporters for the 'Once In A Million' chance to interview Mia. Which. Makes some sense, maybe? This is the first interview Mia will ever do, so she gets it. Still, that IN NO WAY means Mia WANTS to be interviewed. She didn't even want to GO HOME from her princess lessons today, given that her mother was going to tell her Algebra teacher about his impending fatherhood.

Still, he took it well. Mr G, she means. Took the news well. SO WELL, in fact, that Mia is now apparently a bridesmaid for the wedding that her mum and her new soon-to-be-stepfather are going to be having at City Hall at some point in the near future.

Helen's thinking maybe Halloween, because marriage is apparently as scary as Michael Myers was to Laurie Strode. Okay? Mia is . . . okay with this?

Well, in the interest of honesty, Mia's too tired to care. She's concerned about how her mother will react when the whole 'pregnancy' bit actually kicks in, what with food cravings and morning sickness and whatnot, but her mother marrying her Algebra teacher? Honestly, if not for the whole barely-passing-the-class bit, Mia likes Mr G. At least, she likes him a bunch more than she likes some of the other teachers at her school, so . . . her mother can do worse? At least Mr G's reaction is 'Let's get married', and not 'I'm going to parkour out of this building now and never speak to you again'.

;;

So, Mia is refusing to add to the news wheel of AEHS with her own little bomb – sorry, bomb_**s**_, plural, of her impending big-sisterhood or her upcoming interview with a woman who interviewed the First Lady – so the Big News at her school is that the It Couple, Josh Ritcher and Lana Weinberger, have got back together, after having been broken up for almost a full week. Honestly, this isn't something Mia has ever cared about, but given that Josh's locker is directly next to hers, this development just means that getting into her locker is, once again, only possible with forceful interference.

Today, for instance, Mia required Lilly's assistance to separate the two from their liplock, Lilly obligingly stabbing Josh in the spine with the tip of her pencil.

Mia hasn't even mentioned her News to Lilly, either. It just . . . it feels weirdly like you're bragging, when you bring something like that up in a conversation, you know? If that makes sense?

The princess thing is honestly nothing but a big inconvenience to her life, and Mia honestly doesn't know how to talk about it with her friends, unless they start talking about it first. It feels awkward. So Lilly doesn't know about the interview. And you can forget her mother's pregnancy. Mia's barely coping with her OWN emotions on that subject, she refuses to have to deal with anyone else's just yet.

Sometimes Mia's certain that if she didn't have Nick in her life to vent to, her head would explode from stress.

;;

So, fast forwarding through her week, and the boredom of school and how weird her science classmate Kenny has been acting, sitting and waiting for an interview is somehow one of the most nerve-wracking things Mia's done recently.

For god's sake, why would ANYONE tell her that the estimate viewership for this interview would be _twenty-two million?_ It's like, oh, by the way, we know that you're not particularly happy about being a princess and having your whole life and any plans you've ever made for yourself upheaved, and that you're now shadowed everywhere by a bodyguard, and also paparazzi, and you're fourteen, and barely passing several classes, and now with very little notice, you're going to be interviewed by Beverly Walker, hard-hitting journalist who's interviewed more famous and important people than some have in their lives, and this is your first interview, well, by the way, the interview – the first one you've ever done, you remember – will be watched by _TWENTY-TWO MILLION PEOPLE AT MINIMUM, NOT COUNTING RERUNS. _No pressure!

Mia might be hyperventilating. A bit.

But instead of being allowing to go out onto the balcony for some fresh air and a moment of peace, she has to sit in this chair, surrounded by people running around and calling for equipment she isn't even sure matters, because she doesn't Know Anything about the TV business; she has to sit still and not move very much, because there was a Whole Stylist who did her hair and makeup and if she messes Anything of it up, Grandmere will probably react by dragging Mia to Paolo's tomorrow and just. Having him wax her entire head, or something.

The fact that Grandmere's always upset at something about Mia honestly isn't great for her nerves anyway. And Grandmere Really does not want Mia mucking up the 'look', given that Grandmere made the stylist do Mia's makeup twice, because the first time made Mia look like a _poulet_. Which is a word that means either chicken or prostitute in French. But when Clarisse Renaldo says it, it always means prostitute.

Lilly's Nana has never said the word 'prostitute' in her entire life. Not even in Yiddish. That's a fact. Lilly got the grandma who loves her and gives her cookies whenever they come to visit, and supports Lilly's dream/life goals, and Mia gets the grandma with tattooed eyeliner and a chain-smoking habit who says _Mia_ looks like a sex worker. How is this woman a Princess, dowager or otherwise, never mind a grandma?

;;

Instead of rehashing Mia's interview, we're just going to give a transcript of what was said, and Mia's gonna freak out a bunch, because she can't decide if she did well or not.

**Beverly Walker (BW), voiceover:** Imagine, if you will, an ordinary teenage girl. Well, as ordinary as a teenage girl who lives in New York City's Greenwich Village with her single mother, acclaimed painter Helen Thermopalis, can be. Mia's life was filled with normal things most teenagers lives are full of – homework, friends and the occasional bad math grade . . . until, one day, it all changed.

**Cut to Penthouse Suite, Plaza Hotel.**

**BW:** Mia – may I call you Mia? Or would you prefer Your Highness, or Amelia?

**Mia Renaldo (MR):** Um, no. I prefer Mia.

**BW:** Mia. Tell us about that day. The day life as you know it changed completely.

**MR (deep breath):** Well, what happened was, my dad and I were having tea here at the Plaza, because it's been something of our tradition whenever he's in the city; and he set down is drink, and looked at me, all very grave, and he says 'Mia, I want you to know the truth. I think you're old enough now, and you know I can't have any more children, so what I'm about to say will have a lot of impact on your future. It's only fair I tell you, I am the Prince of Genovia'.

**BW:** Wow, so it was a very blunt confession, wasn't it?

**MR (nervous laugh):** Yeah, it was a bit. I wasn't very sure how to react. Honestly, I don't remember what I felt at the time – I wasn't happy or scared or angry, my brain was just like, 'oh. Oh boy.'

**BW:** So what happened after that confession?

**MR:** Well . . . it sort of started to be a planning session on how my dad was going to uproot my life and move me to Genovia, straight from there, and, uh. I got a little . . . ticked-off.

**BW:** Ticked off how?

**MR:** Well . . I definitely didn't have the most, uh, _mature_ reaction to being told my whole life was going to be moved to another country, and I kinda . . uh, started yelling a little about how I didn't want to move, or be a princess, and how it was really unfair of my dad to expect me to willingly pack up my life and move to a palace when he never even though mentioning that he was a prince could be important information for me. And then I got up from my chair and literally sprinted out of the building. And got on the subway and went home.

**BW:** Oh, goodness.

**MR (self-deprecating laugh):** Yeah, I know. Real princessy, right? Eventually, we all – my mum, dad and I – and we hashed out a plan that would actually work without being too upsetting to my life, and so. Yeah.

**BW:** So what kind of plan is that?

**MR:** Well, right now, I'm going to keep attending my high school, and every day after classes, I come here to the Plaza, where my grandmother –

**BW:** Dowager Princess Clarisse, your father's mother.

**MR:** Yeah, she trains me in, you know, etiquette, formal dancing, politic-cal conversation - sorry, I couldn't think of the right word - that sort of thing. The kind of stuff that means I hopefully – hopefully, fingers crossed! – won't cause an international incident at some event.

**BW:** It certainly sounds like you have a full schedule every week.

**MR:** That's an understatement, yeah.

**BW:** So you attend Albert Einstein High School here in Manhattan, don't you?

**MR:** Yes, I do.

**BW:** Do you like it there?

**MR:** Uh, (nervous laugh) I guess I like it as much as any teenager likes school, I guess?

**BW:** It's my understanding you've pulled one of your class grades up quite a bit recently.

**MR:** Yeah, I. I got an F in Algebra, but one of my friends, Michael, he's been tutoring me a bit to help me out, and. I mean I'm up to a D grade now, so clearly he's doing something right.

Well. Basically, Mia managed Not to spill the beans about either her mother's pregnancy, or her ridiculous crush on her 'friend' tutor – god, would it have sounded bad if she'd said that boy was her best friend's older brother? Oh well. Too late.

Still, the whole mess ended with Beverly very nicely giving a speech to the camera: 'She's not a jock, or a cheerleader. What Amelia Mignonette Thermopalis Renaldo, is, ladies and gentlemen, defies the societal stereotypes that exist in today's modern educational institutions. She's a princess. An American princess. And yet she faces the same problems and pressures that teenagers all over this country face every day . . with a twist: one day, she'll grow up to govern a nation.'

No mention that it's the last damn career Mia's ever wanted for herself, but still. A sweet sentiment, more or less.

But, GOD, was Mia ready to get out of there and hightail it to Lilly's place. Sleepovers with friends were always a good time, right?

;;

Sleepovers with friends were . . . half a good time. The good time – actually having fun and getting to relax. The other half – uh, finding out all of her friends have kissed boys, and she hasn't.

Mia feels sort of . . . defensive, about her never-been-kissed-ness? Like, she's not a prude, or anything, she just . . is taking things slow. She's got a lot going on, all right? She's barely got the energy to struggle through homework, okay, she doesn't have the energy to try and figure out the mind games of teenage boys.

Like this guy – or whoever it is – she's been sent a couple of weird IMs from some guy calling himself JoCRox, and Mia's been kind of ignoring the messages. Honestly, she does feel a little bad, because they're all very sweet, but she just doesn't have the energy for mind games, so she sent back a message last night to JoCRox, saying all that and uh. There's been no reply. Oh well.

But yeah. Lilly and Boris Pelkowski of the G&T violin, Tina and the guy she's been seeing since she took him to the Cultural Diversity Dance, Dave, Shameeka and her guy of the week, Ling Su and that one dude whatshisname who's been around for a minute.

But because Mia had nothing to confess to the camera – because Lilly was filming the confessions for her show, to demonstrate how low the degenerate youth of America have sunk – Mia had to do a Dare. Like Truth or Dare, y'know?

Lilly dared her to drop an eggplant out of Lilly's sixteenth story window. Which, honestly, how stupid. Someone could seriously get hurt, and Mia's all for showing how low the degenerate Yoof of America have sunk, but smashing in someone's skull sounds like a bad idea to do it. Still. Lilly was kinda pissy that Mia didn't have anything to confess on-camera – well, Mia _did_, what with dumb-bad crushes and that little bomb of her impending sisterhood and the attached stepfather, but confessing that to a camera before her mother had told her actual dad sounded like a bad idea.

But to avoid being branded a coward as well as a priss or prude – whatever – Mia went into the kitchen, getting past the Drs Moscovitz in the living room, ignoring stacks of medical journals in favour of casual magazines. And she almost made it without comment, but then Lilly's dad called, "Hello Mia. How are you doing?"

"Um," She said, because OH GOD NERVOUS was suddenly all over her brain. "Fine."

"And how is your mother?" asked Lilly's mother.

"She's good." Only half a lie.

"Is she still seeing your Algebra teacher in a social capacity?"

"Um, yes, Dr Moscovitz." More social than you'd guess.

"And are you still amenable to the relationship?" Lilly's father wanted to know.

"Uh. I guess," Mia shrugged. Does 'It's is happening, also he knocked her up and they're getting married so there's also no point getting mad' count as being amenable?

"Well, tell her hello from me," Lilly's mother said. "We can't wait until her next show. It's at the Mary Boone Gallery, right?"

"Yeah." The Moscovitzes were big fans of her mother. One of her best paintings was hanging in their dining room.

But, finally, they both went back to their magazines, and Mia snagged an apple from the fridge, to camouflage her theft of the eggplant.

Really, it was a pretty big eggplant, and Mia held the thing to her belly as she went back to the room, and all she could think of was that – in a few months – her mother would probably be the size of Mia with the eggplant. It wasn't a very comforting thought, because Mia really couldn't imagine her mother dressing any more conservatively pregnant than she did not-pregnant.

Lilly narrated gravely into the microphone about how Mia Thermopalis was about to strike a blow for good girls everywhere, and Shameeka filmed, Mia opened the window, sticking her head out to make sure there were no passers-by who could get hurt – a residential street at almost eleven at night, even on a Saturday, come on – Mia stuck her arm out the window, looked directly at the camera, and then . . .

"Bombs away," she said, like in the movies.

It _was_ kind of cool seeing this big, ball-sized eggplant tumbling over and over in the air as it fell. There were enough street lamps to seeing clearly the whole way down. Down, down went the eggplant, past the windows of the psychoanalysts and the psychologists and investment bankers – the only people who could afford to live in the Moscovitzes building – and then . .

SPLAT!

The eggplant hit the sidewalk.

Only not quite. It _exploded_ on the sidewalk, sending bits of vegetable everything – mostly over an M1 city bus that was driving by, but also somewhat over the fancy Jaguar car that had been idling nearby.

Mia leaned out the window, admiring the splatter pattern the pulp had made against the street and sidewalk, the drivers door of the Jaguar opened up and a man got out from behind the wheel, just as the Moscovitzes building's doorman stepped out from beneath the awning over the front doors and looked up –

And then Mia was wrenched backwards onto the floor by an arm around her waist.

"Get down!" Michael hissed at everyone else. Lilly, Shameeka, Ling Su and Tina all ducked away from the window. Mia was still on the floor. Well. Michael was on the floor. He had Mia yanked back against his chest. Until he shoved her off him, anyway. Mia wanted to pout, once she stopped being surprised – she didn't even get to enjoy that!

Where had Michael even come from? Mia'd made sure to ask if he was home before Lilly even instigated Truth or Dare, because the last time Mia'd accepted a Dare from Lilly, Lilly had made Mia streak naked in the hallway. Not the hallway inside the apartment. The hallway _outside_ it.

But Lilly had said Michael was at Columbia University, attending some lecture on robotics or something and wouldn't be home for hours.

"Are you guys stupid, or what?" Michael wanted to know. He sounded pretty mad. "Don't you know, besides the fact that it's a good way to kill someone, it's also against the law to drop things out the window in New York City?"

"Michael," Lilly was disgusted, "grow up. It was just a common garden vegetable."

"I'm serious." Michael had not calmed down. "If anyone saw Mia do that, she could be arrested."

"No she couldn't," Lilly said, "She's a minor."

"She could still go to juvenile court. You better not be about to air that footage on your show."

Lilly stuck out her chin stubbornly and said, "I most certainly am. It's to make a point."

"About what? Lilly, everybody knows who Mia is. If you air that without editing Mia's face, it will be all over the news that the Princess of Genovia was caught on camera dropping projectiles out of the window of her friend's high-rise apartment. Get a freaking clue, will you?"

Lilly rolled her eyes, but Tina ended up agreeing with Michael, also saying that Mia didn't need any more publicity than she already had, which. Mia had to actually _try_ to not laugh at that. They had no idea about Mia's situation around _publicity_. Mia still hadn't told them about the Beverly Walker interview.

Lilly got up and stomped towards the window, starting to lean out – presumably to check whether the doorman and the guy with the Jaguar were still there – but Michael yanked her back. "Rule number one," he said, "If you're going to insist on dropping something out any window, never, ever, check if anybody is standing down there looking up. They will see you look out and figure out what apartment you are in, and then you'll get blamed for dropping whatever it was, because literally nobody but the guilty party would be looking out a window in that situation."

Shameeka pursed her lips, a smile and a quirked eyebrow following quickly. "Michael," she said, "it almost sounds like you've done this before."

Michael's face didn't really change, but Mia noticed the tips of his eyes turning a little red. "Let's just say I used to have a very keen interest in experimenting with the earth's gravitational pull."

Code: I used to drop things out the window too, and there may be a record about me at a police station. Or at least, that was Mia's translation. Why did Michael suddenly become just a little hotter?

;;


	6. I say to myself, 'I am a Princess'

**Think as Hard as Ever I Can of Being a Princess**

"When things are horrible – just horrible – I think as hard as ever I can of being a princess. I say to myself, 'I am a princess'. You don't know how it makes you forget." – Francis Hodgson Burnett.

Part 2 of 2, Book 2 (Princess Diaries Volume II: Princess in the Spotlight)

;;

So, the Beverly Walker interview did nothing for Mia's social standing at AEHS, but it did make Lilly super mad at her, because apparently Beverly Walker is Lilly's 'all-time-role-model-and-hero' – which is honestly kinda weird, because Lilly literally never talks about Beverly Walker except to deride her choice of clothing per interview? – and Mia not mentioning her interview is apparently a horrible breach of Girl Code.

Mia didn't know they followed Girl Code in their friendship, but okay. (But if their friendship follows Girl Code, why is Lilly allowed to ignore it whenever _Mia_ invokes it, huh?)

Still, getting home from Lilly's wasn't the catastrophe that Mia could've anticipated – honestly, Mia does have a habit of staying late at Lilly's to avoid whatever mess was occurring at her own home (especially since the princess bomb dropped) – and even though Mr G (Frank. His name is Frank, on Saturday he's going to be her stepfather) was there, they all had a bit of fun discussing wedding plans; Helen wanted a Halloween-theme wedding, maybe with the bride dressing up as King Kong, with Mia as the Empire State Building, and Helen spent a good twenty minutes trying to talk Frank into dressing as Fay Wray before being more or less shouted down-

But then Lilly got on the phone to be upset at Mia for not mentioning the interview. Mia honestly couldn't really force herself to be too upset – Lilly had a habit of _searching_ for things to be mad about, rather than simply finding them.

Although it did kill Mia's happy-buzz from a chill afternoon, she did actually catch one of the commercials for the interview (advertised as 'America's Royal, Princess Mia'. Barf) and she noticed that Grandmere had actually been right about being pedantic over the colour of the eye shadow Mia wore on camera. It did make her eyes pop.

Which was surprising, because she'd rarely been right about anything else in Mia's life.

;;

**Five things Grandmere has been wrong about:**

Mia's Dad would settle down when he met the right woman. And it'd be by the time he was thirty-five.

Fat Louie would suck out Mia's breath as she slept and suffocate her.

If Mia didn't attend an all-girls school, Mia would contract a social disease.

If Mia got her ears pierced, they would get infected and she'd die of blood poisoning.

Mia's figure would fill out by age fourteen.

;;

Despite Mia's assertions that people would have no reason to care at all about what she could say in an interview – and Nick's assertions that her classmates probably wouldn't care – EVERYBODY at her school seemed ready to watch the interview. Everybody.

What, did the idea of witnessing Mia barely keep her composure on camera seem like a good time to her peers? Sure, she didn't have a freaking meltdown OR spill the beans about _certain_ aspects of her life, but she'd still been a nervous wreck! She's pretty sure her left eye was twitching like crazy for maybe 60% of the conversation!

Of course, Mia would literally rather have everyone only tell her about how they want to watch her stammer her way through an interview then do what Lana did, which is randomly walk up to Mia and Michael as they left Gifted and Talented and just randomly ask "Are you two dating?" in a snotty/obnoxious tone that made it clear that any answer other than 'no' would be subject to disbelief.

But Mia really couldn't say anything, because she's bad when put on the spot, and Michael's face was going red, so _Lilly_ had to jump in – with a loud snort of "As if!"

And everyone got to laugh – except for Mia, because she refused to look at Michael or anyone else. Probably because the concept was so ridiculous, Michael just kind of ignored the whole scene. And Mia too, a bit.

As if.

;;

Grandmere was decidedly _not_ in the mood to give compliments about the interview after school, but she also held back from decrying Mia's posture as disgraceful in the Princess Lesson that afternoon. Which is about as close to a compliment as the woman gets.

Still, there was the standard facial disgust at Mia's posture, coupled with an evil eye when Mia stumbled over her French, but the lesson was . . almost a relief at what Mia's day had been – as well as the stress of the interview that Mia was trying to recover from. Instead, Grandmere decided to give a lecture on how to plan a ball (why? In what universe would the Crown Princess of a country plan a ball? Isn't that what party planners were for? Surely there existed a cottage market for party planners for royalty. Wouldn't it be more productive for Mia to know the ins and outs of Parliament and how a bill becomes law or whatever?) because to have a ball, you had to be sure to know the personal lives of your guests – enough to keep nemeses away from each other in a seating chart, but also keep them in places that wouldn't be insulting to their social/political positions. Decor was important, and making sure that everyone had enough notice of a theme of a ball was also important, so that they can all think through their clothing and keep from clashing with the wallpaper.

Seriously. Mia had to spend her afternoons learning this.

Excuse me, God, but one quick question: **Why?**

All this, and for the cherry on top, her grandmother's miniature poodle, Rommel, somehow figured that Mia was so hideous to look at that he started cowering in fright at the very sight of her. Which is just. Amazing. Mia loves animals, she does – her dad is giving fifty bucks a day to Green Peace in Mia's name, come on – but even St Francis of Assisi, the patron of animals, would have a hard time appreciating Rommel. Rommel's got a nervous disorder (Mia's willing to bet it's just from having to be in such close proximity to Grandmere since he was a puppy, and this dog is about eight) that made all his fur fall out, so Clarisse dresses him in little sweaters and coats to keep him warm. Today's was a mink jacket, dyed lavender to match the one on Grandmere's shoulders. The DOG was wearing another dead animal's skin.

And then Grandmere picked him up, because she figured that Rommel was moaning in anger or whatever, and Mia could tell that her diamond brooches were stabbing Rommel in the spine (because he also has zero body fat) and Rommel only shut up because Grandmere plopped him on her lap – which is the dogs favourite and least favourite place to be, because it was Grandmere's lap.

Mia could feel a headache forming in the back of her eyes.

And then somehow the topic moved to weddings, and planning a royal wedding is somehow even worse than planning a ball, so Grandmere waxed poetic for a good twenty minutes about how, when she got married, she had a fever of a hundred and two and was borderline delirious, but powered through it anyway in favour of waving to the populace and waltzing until two in the morning.

Okay, Grandmere.

Which somehow jumped to the topic of royal consorts, and how whoever Mia marries will be her consort – the Prince Philip to her Queen Elizabeth, although hopefully with less ties to the royal family of Russia. Unless Mia tripped over someone of that line who somehow survived, in which case Grandmere would actually be impressed. But anyway, she had Mia dig out her journal to write it all down, so that in four years when Mia's in college and takes up with someone completely inappropriate, Mia will know why Clarisse is so mad.

**Expectations of Any Royal Consort of the Princess of Genovia:**

**The consort will ask the princess' permission before he leaves a room.**

**The consort will wait for the princess to finish speaking before speaking himself.**

**The consort will wait for the princess to lift her fork before lifting his own at mealtimes.**

**The consort will rise the moment the princess rises.**

**The consort will not engage in any sort of risk-taking behaviour – such as racing, either car or boat, mountain-climbing, sky-diving et cetera – until such a time as an heir has been provided.**

**The consort will give up his right, in the event of annulment or divorce, to custody of any children born during the marriage.**

**The consort will give up the citizenship of his native country in favour of citizenship of Genovia.**

Well. At least now Mia totally gets why her mother absolutely refused to marry her father. If he'd ever bothered to ask her, anyway.

;;

And then the interview aired.

Mia wasn't sure what she was expecting – she'd said nothing incriminating about her school, so no surprise that no one from there rang, but she hadn't been expecting a call from Grandmere during the commercial break.

"Well," was her opening line. No 'hello'. For a woman so concerned with etiquette, Grandmere never had any problem ignoring it herself. "That was just terrible, wasn't it?"

Mia could only stammer out "I didn't think it was so bad-" before Grandmere cut her off.

"I cannot imagine what that woman was thinking – she failed to show a single picture of the palace! And it is at its most beautiful in the autumn!" And then, because Mia didn't manage to cut her off, Grandmere rolled down that hill like a boulder after Indiana Jones. "The palm trees look magnificent. This is a travesty, I tell you. A travesty. Do you realise the promotional opportunities that have been wasted here? Absolutely wasted?" Of course, she also didn't care for answers to rhetorical questions. "Tourism has been down in Genovia ever since we banned cruise ships from docking in the bay. But who needs day-trippers? With their sticky cameras and their awful Bermuda shorts. If that woman had only shown a few shots of the casinos. And the beaches! Why, we have the only naturally white sand along the Riviera. Are you aware of that, Amelia? Monaco has to import its sand. Wait-"

Not that Mia ever did anything else when on the phone with Grandmere. You just had to wait for her to stop talking and hang up.

"Oh, no, there we are. It's back on, and they're showing some simply lovely shots of the palace. Oh, and there's the beach. And the bay, oh, and the olive groves. Lovely. Simply lovely. That woman might have a few redeeming qualities after all." And _then_ she hung up.

Mia put the phone back and went into the bathroom, where her mother had spent the interview with her head slumped into the toiler – morning sickness apparently is an all-day thing – and Mr G was rubbing her back.

"So," was Mia's opening gambit. "At least I didn't say anything too bad, right?"

Her mother gave her a thumbs-up, and Mr G smiled tiredly.

;;

**FtLouie: **So, please be honest but also beware my fragile ego and self esteem – I wasn't too bad in that interview, was I?

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Nah, you were fine. The perfect blend of utterly nervous-but-charming and also vague enough that there's enough for reporters to continue to try to mine you for more interviews.

**FtLouie: **Crap.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **For a first interview, I think it was perfectly on point. Enough information that people know something about you, but vague enough that people will get the impression you're not the swooning catastrophe you can be sometimes. You want to keep some aspects of yourself close to the vest, right?

**FtLouie: **I can bring out my 'swooning catastrophe' side at a later date, huh?

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Yeah. A fun surprise for people when they meet you on the street.

**FtLouie: **(middle finger emoji)

**FtLouie: **We also have one development on the Baby front.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **I'm amazed you didn't find a way to blurt that out during your interview.

**FtLouie:** I know, right? I'm getting so good at not serving random platters of word vomit that divulge people's biggest secrets to perfect strangers. Personal Growth.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **I'm so proud. What's the development?

**FtLouie: **Marriage.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Please elaborate.

**FtLouie:** My mum. Mr Gianini. Are getting married on Halloween, at City Hall.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Congrats? Is this a congrats situation, or are you mad? I can't tell over email.

**FtLouie: **It's a congrats situation, I guess. Honestly, I have absolutely zero strong feelings about Mr G – he seems cool, and he isn't ditching our lives completely to make Mum raise this kid solo, and if he didn't make me stay behind school to study Algebra, I honestly wouldn't have ever been upset when Mum started dating him.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Yeah, but isn't him tutoring you for his class – without expecting any financial recompense – a good sign he'd be a pretty solid dad? Like, if he's willing to do that for just some student because he wants you to do well in his class, imagine how he'd be with an actual kid of his.

**FtLouie: **Good point.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope:** Anything else happening in your life right now, or can I assume you're only dealing with two messes in your life at once?

**FtLouie: **I threw an eggplant out a window and got yelled at by Lilly's brother.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Isn't dropping things out windows in NYC illegal? And DANGEROUS?

**FtLouie: **Yeah. It's why we got yelled at.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Well, good. You should've gotten yelled at for that.

**FtLouie:** UMM?! Anything else you want to add?

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Isn't Michael the guy you're crushing on who's also tutoring you in your stepdad's class?

**FtLouie: **First – ew, calling Mr G my stepdad, he doesn't even live here yet; second – I cannot believe I ever admitted that to you.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **There's maybe a 20% chance of me ever meeting Michael Moscovitz, and you needed to fess up to someone.

**FtLouie: **Ugh. Damn my blabbermouth.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **As long as you keep my secrets, I'll keep yours.

;;

So the interview was a Monday night, and somehow Tuesday wasn't . . . the worst? Some people muttered some stuff about the interview at her – according to Shameeka, people had been hoping Mia would mention people by name – because somehow getting name-dropped by a princess on national television would be a status symbol or something - and given that she mostly didn't, the school had decided to go back to ignoring Mia. Her preferred state of being at AEHS.

G&T was . . a little weird, with Michael. Mostly because she'd – well, obviously she'd gushed a little about how he'd been helping her, and Michael didn't seem to know what to do with that.

"It didn't weird you out, did it?" was Mia's query when the topic came up.

"Nah." Michal had a sheepish look, and the tips of his ears were pink. "Nah, if anything, it was pretty flattering, hearing that you think I'm the main reason you're passing Algebra."

"You ARE the reason I'm passing Algebra." Mia grinned at him. "I was giving credit where it's due. Honest."

Which made Michael's ears go from pink to red, and a bit of a blush was put in his cheeks. Focusing on Algebra was really hard after that.

;;

Mia finally getting home from her princess lesson was a sign to her mother to have a bit more of a discussion about the wedding – was Mia actually really okay with Frank moving in, and that Helen was having this baby? She knew how stressed-out about stuff Mia could get, and she knew this was a big upheaval, and she wanted Mia to know that if Mia did have a problem, all she had to do was say something, and everything could be immediately shelved until Mia was more comfortable.

"God, Mum, no! I'm totally fine with Frank!" And she was – she liked Frank. Nothing massive, but she did. He was a good guy. Her mum deserved a good guy. Although . . . "I'm glad Frank's moving in – I mean, do you really want to move to Brooklyn with him? But . . can we just dress like normal people for the wedding? Just because I don't think we'll find an Empire State costume for me on such sort notice."

Which made Helen laugh and give Mia a hug, as well as agree that costumes for their wedding was a bit much. Something Frank thanked Mia for, when he came over for dinner, as well as big some of his stuff over. Apparently, he wasn't really jazzed at dressing like Fay Wray for his wedding.

;;

But other than that, her week was oddly calm – school in the day, Algebra tutoring by her soon-step-dad after, princess lessons after that. Her mother booked the ceremony for noon on Saturday, so that they could go for lunch after, and Mia could go to the midnight showing of Rocky Horror with her friends, and Frank got his hands on the necessary papers to make it all legal.

Mia did broach that maybe her mother should mention her impending marriage and baby to her family in Indiana, because Frank had told his parents about it, and they were going to come into the city from Long Island for the ceremony on Saturday, but her mother abjectly refused. Mostly because her mother really did not like her family – at ALL. Mia was fourteen, and she'd gone to visit her mother's family all of _twice_ in her life. Last time, she'd been about ten, and her cousin Hank had been recently dropped off at the Thermopalis homestead a year before by his globe-trotting mother, Marie, her mother's sister, with whom she hadn't spoken to in person for about a decade, primarily because, in Helen's words, Marie exists in an intellectual and spiritual vacuum.

Marie is a Republican, is Helen's problem.

Of course, this was also Helen's beef with her parents, because she'd never forgiven them for a) voting for George Bush Sr. and his son, b) refusing to support her decision to have Mia, c) or the way Helen was raising her, and d) being disdainful of Helen's whole career path, despite how lucrative and happy it had made Helen in the last decade.

So Mia wasn't too surprised her mother didn't want her parents coming to New York. Of course, Mia wasn't suggesting they _come_ to the city – they hated any city, because of what they called _furriners_, meaning foreigners - just that they _know_ what was happening. But Mia also refused to make the call when Helen suggested it, so apparently they'd learn when Helen sent a customary Christmas card to them and mentioned it in the post-script of the card or something.

Frank, however, moved in fully by Thursday, bringing with him a drum kit, a pinball machine and a foozball table – which he and Mia played nine games straight almost immediately after they were done unpacking. Mia still had to practice a little calling him by his first name, because she was supposed to call him Frank in the house but by his title in school – so her mother took bets for how quickly Mia would fail at that. The long guess was it would be two weeks before Mia started calling him by his name in class and just never stopped.

;;

Saturday eventually rolled around, bringing with it a weird sense of tension for Mia. But still, after breakfast and a few hours of loafing around the loft, she, her mother and Frank all pulled on some nice clothes – her mother in one of her favourite dresses, Frank in a pretty nice suit, Mia wedged into one of the few designer dresses Grandmere had bought her that she actually sorta-liked – and Lars brought around a car, taking them to the City Hall, where they met Frank's mother and father, who had spent two hours locked on the Long Island freeway – because apparently the word 'freeway' is shorthand for 'bumper-to-bumper traffic all hours of the day' – when Philipe walked in the door!

"Dad?" Mia was incredulous. "What are _you_ doing here?"

Philipe greeted her with a kiss to the forehead, and shook Frank's hand. "I'm witnessing a wedding, Mia. What else?"

Mia swung her head back and forth between her parents. "Mum, when did you tell him?"

Helen smiled, "I called him Sunday and asked him to come to the wedding. It felt like the right thing."

Okay, fine, that made – wait. "Wait, does _Grandmere_ know?"

That got a laugh from both her parents, which also broke some of the tension that had still lingered from the arrival of Mr and Mrs Gianini.

"God, no, honey," said her mother. "Can you imagine if Clarisse knew? She would've spent this last week probably plotting some cock-a-mamie wedding at the Plaza or something, and Frank and I would've just eloped to Mexico to get away from it all!"

Which was a fair depiction of what probably would've happened.

However, the hypotheticals of Grandmere having found out about the wedding beforehand had to be put on the Never Think About This Again mental shelf for Mia, because their number was up.

The ceremony was short, sweet, and her mother was weirdly romantic in her wedding vows – something Mia decided to attribute entirely to pregnancy hormones, otherwise she'd probably never be able to look at her mother the same again. Frank even got a little teary-eyed, and his mother got a lot more than that. Mia herself definitely wasn't immune. She held her dad's hand through it all, and he gave her a little squeeze when the justice of the peace declared Frank and Helen married, and when they kissed and everyone gave a little cheer, Mia felt . . . well, she felt that her mum was making a good call.

Not the not-having-a-kid-out-of-wedlock, but marrying Frank. Mia just got the sense that – that he'd be good for her. Good for their little family, separate from the royalty aspects of it. It made her smile just a little wider.

;;

But it **was** Halloween, and Mia had one plan for the night: Rocky Horror Picture Show, as tradition required. HOWEVER, a problem: to attend Rocky Horror, a costume is required for the Halloween screening. Which – Mia hasn't thought about it, all right? She's been Busy this past . . . year.

So, now she's glaring at her closet, trying to find something that she can pass off as a Halloween costume – does she dig out that one green dress and some fairy wings and say she's Tinkerbell? LAME. Does she dig out her orange sweater and her orange skirt and the Gucci loafer Grandmere bought her and be Velma from Scooby-Doo? . . . Maybe?

Because she really doesn't want to dig out last year's costume of 'Princess' – yes, she did that. It was an irony thing, and yes, how the tables have turned on her – she wants to be something other than what she is.

You know what? Yesterday she was watching a bunch of Original Series reruns of Star Trek, and it's reawakened her love for Nurse Chapel. Yeah, she's going to get some snotty comments from Lilly probably – the Original Series is hardly the cutting edge of television these days – but Mia just doesn't care. She does not care. (She's going to tell herself that until she actually believes it.)

So, out of the closet come the blue dress with the black neckline that's weirdly similar to the women's uniforms on Star Trek (there's nothing 'weird similar' about it. She'd looked at the dress and thought 'That's a Star Trek uniform' and bought the thing), and her recent growth spurt (up, not out, because of course not) has made the thing close to a minidress, but whatever. She digs out the old Star Trek insignia pin she got at a comic book store a couple years ago, slaps that thing on the dress, pulls on a pair of her black-sheer tights and – she wants to wear her Doc Martens, she really does, but instead she digs out these black boots from Chanel that Grandmere bought her, because somehow despite her protestations that she'd never ever wear the clothes Grandmere bought her, she's wearing them more and more.

Well – as long as she's not wearing them _in front_ of Grandmere, Mia's going to count it as a victory for herself.

But she's looking herself in the mirror and – huh. Mia's not good at seeing the upsides of her own appearance: her mouth is too big, her skin too pasty unless she burns it over the summer, she's really very skinny with no breasts to speak of, and she's one of the tallest people in her year level. Yes, even over the boys. And her 'makeover' from Grandmere didn't really make her very happy with her hair either – it used to be this mid-brown/blonde colour, and it could never decide if it was going to be wavy-curly or wavy-straight after she got out of the shower, and then Paolo hacked it all off and coloured it blonde, which, for tonight's purposes is a benefit, because she's closer to looking like Nurse Chapel than she would otherwise; but looking in the mirror now . . . she doesn't look half bad.

She'd almost say she's approaching pretty.

Her mum and Frank were slouched on the sofa with some old movie playing – it had Clarke Gable on screen, anyway – when Mia went out the door. She was the one to collect everyone, what with Hans behind the limo wheel, so they hit up all her friends' places – Tina first, with Wahim, her bodyguard, as well, Tina looking awesome with her butter-yellow hijab and pink dress as Sleeping Beauty (and she and Mia agreed to pass Lars and Wahim off as the Men In Black); Ling Su as Sailor Moon and Shameeka as Blossom from the PowerPuff Girls; Lilly and Boris joined last (Mia tried not to be put out that Michael wouldn't be joining them until the actual show, because apparently the Computer Club had a group costume happening), Boris using his violin case as a prop to be Al Capone, notorious gangster. Lilly had the costume that probably required the most explanation, but Mia wished she'd been as clever – a Freudian Slip, literally. Lilly was wearing a sleeping nightie with a big fluffy beard that went all down her front.

They were probably a very motley crew of characters, but Mia was honestly having a bunch of fun, even before they got to the theatre.

Lilly was the one to catch sight of the Computer Club first – although the giant sign saying LOOKING FOR PRIVATE RYAN and the fake blown-off limbs and guts spilling out of jackets definitely caught most passers-by's attention.

So the whole group made it into the cinema, and somehow Lars got pushed into the seat behind her, which Mia imagined her wasn't thrilled about, but Mia was sitting next to Michael, so she honestly wasn't going to say anything. On her other side was a girl from the Computer Club, Judith, dressed as another member of the blood-soaked platoon, with a sarcastic sense of humour and a way of looking at Michael that made Mia feel even stupider trying to talk to him than she already did, looking out of place in her minidress and boots, between two dead soldiers.

Still, Rocky Horror was very fun. Everybody just acts like a lunatic. People throw bread at the screen, and put up umbrellas when it rained in the movie, and dancing the Pelvic Thrust. Honestly, its some of the best cinema experience you can get.

Mia felt awkward between two of the smartest people in AEHS, but she got to laugh and see Michael looking over at her to see her laughing with him, while also being – maybe, just the tiniest bit – cuddled close in the dark cinema.

And then afterwards, literally the whole group went to a 24 hour pancake place for a very early breakfast, and while Lars looked ready to tap out – Wahim too, actually – ordering cup of coffee after cup of coffee, Mia ended up wedged in between Michael and Kenny, her biology partner. Everyone at the table was loud and having fun, and Kenny tapped Mia on the shoulder and asked "Had any weird mail lately?" with a sort of chagrined look.

Oh. Oh dear. _Kenny was JoCRox_. And Mia'd told him to either be honest or don't bother.

Oh dear. Mia winced, saying "Yeah."

Kenny smiled in a sort of pained-but-accepting manner. "Guess you weren't very interested huh?"

"What?"

Kenny kind of stammered, "I was – I was trying to work up the nerve to ask you out, Mia." He sounded sad.

God, what do you say to that? "Oh, uh. That's very sweet of you, Kenny, really. It's –" what, what do you say? "It's really flattering you like me like that. But –" quick, what's an excuse that's believable? Come on Mia, you're a pathological liar!

"But, really, I'm not looking for anything other than friendship with anyone right now." Big fat lie, but okay. "Like, it's just – my life is really messy right now, and I'm trying to find a middle ground for it all-"

Kenny interjected, "Yeah. I bet." He didn't sound upset, per sey, just resigned. Mia decided to stop making up excuses.

"I'm sorry."

Kenny shrugged and smiled. "It's okay. I get it. Just gotta put yourself out there, you know?"

Mia grinned at him. "All you can do, right?"

At which point, someone climbing back in between the crammed-together seats at the table just jostled everyone, and Michael looked over from his conversation with Judith and saw the way Mia and Kenny were smiling, and he whipped his head over to Lars, really fast. Almost like . . Mia wasn't sure. Like Michael saw something in the conversation – that probably wasn't what it was – and wanted Lars to do something.

But Lars was stirring sugar into his sixth coffee in three hours, and didn't look up. So Michael instead said, kinda loudly, "Well, I'm beat. Anyone else ready to call it a night?"

Which got him some kinda weird looks – some people were still eating – and Lilly went, "Gotta catch up on your beauty sleep, Michael?"

Michael rolled his eyes, but stood up to pay for his food. Mia, thankful for the reprieve from her conversation with Kenny, did the same for her food, along with Lars' coffees, and offered anyone a lift home in her limo to anyone leaving at the same time.

Which of course meant everyone suddenly realised how tired they were and how much they'd love a lift home, Mia, especially if it's in a limousine, gosh, of course.

;;

So, despite the messy beginning of the week, it ended pretty well.

Sure, she began convinced she'd humiliated herself on national television, but she'd ended it with: a stepdad with a pinball machine and a knack for Algebra, the forthcoming baby brother or sister, and a compliment from Michael!

Yes, really! Because he and Lilly were the last to be dropped off after pancakes, and Lilly got out of the limo first, so she wasn't there to see Michael turn to Mia and say, all nicely, "You know, you look . . . really good, like Nurse Chapel." And he gave this sort of dorky smile, and his face was a little pink, and Mia could feel herself blush too.

And it's not much, but still! It's a compliment! From the boy she likes!

And the only other time she can remember getting something like that is from Nick – sure, he seems to have made a habit out of saying nice things to her, but Nick's in Genovia! Michael's _here_! Yeah, he's completely out of her league and her friend's older brother, but he's _here_.

Look, it doesn't matter. Mia's in a good space for herself. She's _happy_.

Halloween should be re-advertised as the _BEST_ time of the year.

* * *

Okay, a couple things: this was weirdly hard for me to get off the ground, mostly because I don't like the second book very much – which, if you've read this and the book, you can probably tell. So I've cut several plot lines and events – in the book, Mia spills a bunch of beans during the interview, including her mother's pregnancy, and Grandmere plots a wedding; Helen's family comes to the city, and there's this whole thing about Lilly sneaking away with Mia's cousin Hank to help him become a model without telling anyone and upsetting a bunch of people, including Lilly's own boyfriend.

Also, the main thing, is that Kenny sends Mia a bunch of anonymous emails and then asks her out at Halloween, which she accept. This leads to Book 3 being half about how Mia wants to break up with him, because she's into Michael, but also doesn't want to, because otherwise she'd A) hurt his feelings, and B) have no boyfriend to go to a dance with. That was her reasoning.

Which is something I never liked about book 3, or as a plot in general – yeah, unrequited feelings hurt, but being strung along hurts just as bad. Better to cut it all loose.

Also because books 3 and 4 are where I'm doing even more canon divergence, with some more Nick (yeah, I know he wasn't really in this one, sorry), and also spilling over from what Mia doesn't talk about in her journal, so I wanted to have as clean a slate as possible to work with.


	7. It has nothing to do with

**What You Think Of And What You Do**

"One of Sara's 'pretends' is that she is a princess," said Jessie. "She plays it all the time-even in school. She wants Ermengarde to be one too, but Ermengarde says she is too fat."

"She is too fat," said Lavinia. "And Sara is too thin."

"Sara says it has nothing to do with what you look like, or what you have. It only has to do with what you think of, and what you do." Jessie explained.

-A Little Princess, Francis Hodgeon Burnett

;;

Book 3 (Princess Diaries Volume III: Princess in Love)

;;

**English Class Assignment (due December 8)**

_**Here at Albert Einstein High School we have a very diverse student population. Over one hundred and seventy different nations, religions and ethnic groups are represented by our student body. In the space given, describe the manner in which your family celebrates the uniquely American holiday, Thanksgiving.**_

**Mia Thermopalis' Thanksgiving.**

**6:45AM: **_Roused by the sound of my mother vomiting. She is well into the third month of her pregnancy, and according to her obstetrician, all the morning sickness should stop in the next trimester. Thank god._

**7:45AM: **_Frank, my stepfather (and also Algebra teacher, so life at school with him is weird) knocks on my door. It's time to go, because we are having Thanksgiving at his parent's house in Sagaponack on Long Island. We have to leave by 8 if we want to beat the traffic._

**8:45AM: **_There is no traffic this early on Thanksgiving, so we arrive at Frank's parents house three hours early._

_Mrs Gianini (not my mother. Frank's mother. My mother is still Helen Thermopalis because she is a fairly well-known painter by that name, and also because she does not believe in the cult of the patriarchy. Also legally changing your name is a lengthy process with lots of paperwork, and Mum doesn't like the paperwork needed to legalise a sale of her own work, nevermind something she considers pointless) is still in her curlers, and very surprised to see us. Not just due to the early hour though, but also because my mother entered the house and immediately had to go vomit in the bathroom, on account of the smell of the cooking turkey._

_I know better than to hope this means my future baby sibling will be a vegetarian like me, but it doesn't hurt to wish._

_My mother has informed me during the car ride that Frank's parents are very old-fashioned and are used to enjoying a conventional Thanksgiving meal; my annual Thanksgiving speech about the genocide committed against the Native Americans by the Pilgrims for whom we are giving Thanks – for deliberately infecting the natives with smallpox and enabling the natives' own self-destruction under their influence with the 'gifting' of weapons, ammunition and alcohol, which the natives were not used to and therefore affected them more heavily than it did their European counterparts – and that it is reprehensible that we, as a country, annually celebrate this destruction of an entire culture._

_Instead, my mother said, I should discuss more neutral topics, such as the weather._

**9:45AM-11:45AM**_**: **__I watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade with Frank's father, Frank Senior, in what is apparently a rec room._

_I don't even understand the function of a rec room, but the couches are comfortable._

_Remembering my mother's warning, I refrain from repeating another of my Thanksgiving rants – that the Macy's parade is a gross example of American capitalism run amok; I'm sorry, but using cute animal-shaped balloons to lure children into begging their parents to buy them things they don't need and the manufacture of which is contributing to the destruction of our planet – both by destroying the land and polluting the air and sky with fumes, and the land with plastic toys that won't degrade for decades at soonest?_

_It is sickening, FIGHT ME._

_Biting my tongue is made easier by the fact that I caught sight of my friend Lilly standing in the crowd, her video camera clutched to her face as a float carrying Miss America and Star Trek actor William Shatner passed by. So I know Lilly is going to take care of denouncing Macy's on the next episode of her public-access show, _Lilly Tells It Like It Is.

**12:00PM:** _Frank's elder sister and her family arrive, along with the pumpkin pies. The twin kids are my age, named Nathan and Claire. I know right away that Claire and I are not going to be best friends, because no sooner are we introduced that she looks at me the way the mean cheerleaders at AEHS look at me in the hallway, before asking in the snottiest voice someone could use with a perfect stranger, "_You're_ the one who's supposed to be a princess?"_

_All I could say back was, "Yeah, I was disappointed too."_

_Which made Nathan laugh, if nothing else._

_But frankly I don't care if Claire doesn't like me, given that she's wearing a pony-skin leather miniskirt. And no, it's not imitation. I don't like cow-leather on clothes, but at least we eat cows. So they're dying for more than one reason; I doubt Claire cares, however, that a horse had to die for the sole purpose of her having that skirt._

_Nathan didn't show up in the skin of dead animals, but he was dressed as every rapper on MTV, all baggy pants and gold chains – and when Frank G. Senior let Nathan change the channel, MTV2 provoked Nathan to sing along to every song, which he knows all the words to. Even when the dirty words were bleeped out, Nathan sang them anyway._

**1:00PM: **_The food is ready and served. We begin eating._

**1:15PM: **_We finish eating._

**1:20PM: **_I help Frank's mother clean up. She told me not to be ridiculous and to go have 'a nice gossip' with Claire. I wonder if all grandmothers that aren't mine have the same sweet demeanour, because Mrs G reminds me of Lilly's Nana a lot, which means she's the complete opposite of Clarisse Renaldo._

_Instead of going back to the table to be ignored by Claire, I stayed with Mrs G and told her how much I'm enjoying having Frank live with us. Frank is a very good housemate, given that he can cook and doesn't mind cleaning, and the bigger TV he brought when he moved in definitely isn't hated._

_Mrs G was immensely gratified to hear this, because old people like hearing nice stuff about their kids. Even if their kid, Frank, is thirty-nine._

**3:00PM:** _We have to leave if we are going to beat the traffic. I say goodbye. Clair doesn't say anything back to me, but Nathan advises me to keep it real._

_We also get given a lot of leftover turkey, even though I don't eat turkey, being a vegetarian and opposed to the mass slaughter of helpless fowl every time a holiday rolls around. My cat Fat Louie will eat more of this dead bird than I will._

**6:30PM: **_We finally make it home, after spending three and a half hours in bumper-to-bumper traffic on the Long Island Expressway, which is an oxymoron of a name if there ever was one. I barely have time to change into my evening dress and flat shoes before my bodyguard, Lars, gets to the Loft with the car to take me to my second Thanksgiving event._

**7:30PM: **_We get to the Plaza Hotel, where I am greeted by the concierge, who announces me to the masses assembled in the Palm Court: _'Presenting Her Royal Highness Princess Amelia Mignonette Grimaldi Thermopalis Renaldo'.

_God forbid they just say Mia._

_My father, the Prince of Genovia, and his mother, the Dowager Princess, rented the Palm Court for the evening to throw a Thanksgiving banquet for their friends and the important people of NYC. When told of this, I found it odd that a pair of people who are not even American would want to care about an American holiday; voicing this was a mistake, however, because Grandmere made me recite the names and positions of every single member of the Genovian Parliament until I got them all completely correct. From memory._

_It was her idea to have what she calls an 'old-fashioned' Thanksgiving dinner (which is rich, because she's French by birth, and she's only been in New York since September, which makes this the longest stretch of time she's EVER been in America), so the food was mussels in white wine sauce, squab stuffed with fois gras, and lobster tails and caviar. You know. Your 'standard' Thanksgiving dinner. I'm pretty sure turkey never appeared on the table. Grandmere invited two hundred guests to the dinner, including the Emperor of Japan and his wife, since they were in town for a world trade summit. _

_Which is why I wasn't wearing heels. I'm five foot nine, and Grandmere says it's rude to be taller than an emperor._

**8:00PM-11:30PM: **_I make polite conversation with the empress while we eat. She is a lovely old woman, and also the first commoner of Japan to marry into the royal family, so she and I found some commonality, in being raised utterly normal before having to be trained into behaving royally. Although I imagine her teacher was not her grandmother bullying her into behaving ladylike every summer when she had no escape, like my training has been._

_I felt very bad, however, because I was so tired from my early start I couldn't stop yawning, no matter how I tried to stop. She was very understanding, but yawning in an empress' face is bad manners. I could tell, because every time I yawned, Grandmere glared at me like she wanted to stab me with her lobster fork._

_My father noticed my yawning eventually and granted me a royal reprieve from dessert. Lars took me back home. Grandmere was clearly upset I was leaving before the cheese course, but it was either that or fall asleep in the fromage bleu._

**12:00AM: **_After a long and exhausting day of giving thanks to the founders of America – those genocidal hypocrites known as the Pilgrims- I finally go to bed._

**And that concludes Mia Thermopalis' Thanksgiving.**

;;

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **How's life?

**FtLouie:** Well, I have no idea what I'm doing, but I know I'm doing it really, really well.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope:** At least that's something. Your exams are coming up, aren't they?

**FtLouie:** Yes. Why?

**HalfAgonyHalfHope:** Wanted to see your reaction to them being mentioned.

**FtLouie:** Look, I'm studying for them as best I can, despite all the stress and the prep for me coming to Genovia over Christmas and my big speech I have to give – I'm doing my best. And when I get tired of that, I curl into the fetal position on my bedroom floor and desperately wish for the sweet release of death for half an hour, and then I get up and go back to revision.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Sounds like a perfect plan.

**FtLouie:** I know, right?

**FtLouie:** How about you?

**HalfAgonyHalfHope:** About the same. When we finish this conversation I'm going to just. Die. For like an hour or something.

**FtLouie:** Good plan. I'll leave you to it, and go back to learning about the history of the Genovian Olive Farmers Association.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope:** (thumbs-up emoji)

;;

Maybe the _one_ small upside of Mia's impending trip to Genovia is the ray of light that she'll get after it's all over – Grandmere will be _staying_ in Genovia once the trip is over, and Mia's going to just resume her normal life, except with a bodyguard! Yay! No more princess lessons!

Maybe! If Mia is absolutely perfect over this trip! So there's no pressure on any aspect of this situation!

Yeah okay. She's screwed.

_Why_ is the idea behind exams to basically stress out anyone who takes them? You have to remember an _entire semester's_ worth of stuff to have a _chance_ of answering _one_ question right. How is that okay? Wouldn't it be better to just have tests about each subject after you complete a class module or something?

Argh.

The fact that Mia's got a whole damn country's opinion of her to worry about doesn't help very much either – was Christmas really a good deadline? She knew her dad wanted to get it out of the way quickly, the whole formal announcement of Mia being his heir, etcetera, but oh my sweet God was Mia not needing the mental pressure. Literally, the whole month was December was going to be crap – school, then flying to Genovia, then being _in_ Genovia what with the whole jam-packed schedule Grandmere and her dad had come up with (insert schedule), then the speech she had to give, then Christmas, then the whole flight back to New York.

She's going to be dead by January, is the point.

So, you would think she'd look forward to spending as much time with her friends as possible – you'd think that going ice skating would be something to look forward to. And Mia is looking forward to that, because her Biology homework is blurring before her eyes.

But she also isn't, because even though it's skating with Lilly and Tina, both of them are going to be bringing their boyfriends. And Mia's going to be a third wheel. Fifth wheel.

And she feels defensive about it. Like, Kenny tried to ask her out, and she said no, because she didn't want to date him. Because she wasn't into Kenny, and she's busy. And she's ridiculously infatuated with Michael, Lilly's brother. But being single surrounded by couples is a weird feeling, and Mia just feels uncomfortable. She feels like she should be giving an excuse for being single.

;;

_Annndd_ apparently she needs even more of a reason not to like hanging out with couples – because the guy she's crushing on has a girlfriend now, apparently.

Yeah. Michael is dating (or – he was on a date?) Judith Gershner, president of the Computer Club, she of the pale skin and raven hair, who rocks the _Geek Chic_ look far better than someone so stereotypical of 'pretty girl into science' really should. God, she's so _in_ Michael's league the way Mia _isn't_, it's ridiculous. Judith, like Michael, is a senior at their school. Judith, like Michael, is on the Honour Roll. Judith, like Michael, has been accepted early-decision into Columbia University, like Michael, because Judith, like Michael, is brilliantly intelligent. Judith Gershner is, in fact, so intelligent that she won first-place prize at the Albert Einstein High School Annual Bio-Medical Technology Fair for her science project, in which she cloned a fruit fly.

_She cloned a fruit fly._ She's _eighteen_.

Mia can't multiply fractions. Mia's fourteen. Mia is a princess.

If this is not an indication of which Mia is oh so much Not Michael's Type, she honestly can't comprehend a better one. Like, if you were Michael Moscovitz, the straight-A student who got into Columbia in your _junior year_ of high school, who would you rather date? A girl who can clone animals, or a girl only getting a D in Freshman Algebra, in spite of her Algebra teacher _being her live-in stepfather?_

Seriously. Michael and Judith are stupidly perfect for each other, and Mia is wishing for a dream. Arguably, she's living one, but she'd rather have a fun dream to live, like the hot older boy is, in fact, into her right back, instead of the crappy one where she's thrown into politics at fourteen.

Of course, it turns out there's one thing Mia can do that Judith can't: stay upright on ice skates under her own power. Seriously, Judith was so bad that Michael had to hold onto both her hands to keep her upright. Mia wasn't sure what surprised her more: that Michael could skate backwards, or that he didn't seem to mind having to tow Judith around the entire rink the whole time they were there.

It did, however, make her feel bad for one other couple – apparently, the boyfriend saw what Michael and Judith were doing and wanted to give it a go, to his girlfriend's consternation. Mia figured the girlfriend had a good point, since her boyfriend didn't seem very good at skating backwards the way Michael was, and the two of them collapsed onto the ice, making the girlfriend shout and storm off the rink. Yowch.

Despite it all, the lovey-dovey couples, Michael and Judith, the fact that Mia honestly felt like the third wheel to _everyone_ at the rink, it was a pretty good time. Mia got hot chocolate before they left, and the barista had put two marshmallows in her drink instead of the usual one.

;;

Sunday dinner at Grandmere's is generally the same thing every week: terrible; but this one was especially grim, what with the recitation of her schedule for her Winter In Genovia - which, by the way, looks like this:

**December 20: 3pm.** Commencement of Royal Duties

**3:30pm. – 5pm.** Meet and greet palace staff

**5pm. – 7pm.** Tour of the palace

**7pm. – 8pm.** Change for dinner

**8pm. – 11pm.** Dinner with Genovian dignitaries

**December 21: 8am. – 9:30am.** Breakfast with Genovian public officials

**10am. – 11:30am** Tour of Genovian state schools

**12pm. – 1pm.** Meet with Genovian schoolchildren

**1:30pm. – 3pm.** Lunch with members of Genovian Teacher's Association

**3:30pm. – 4:30pm.** Tour of Port of Genovia and Genovian naval cruiser (the _Prince Philipe_)

**5pm. – 6pm.** Tour of Genovian General Hospital

**6pm. – 7pm.** Visit with hospital patients.

**7pm. – 8pm.** Change for dinner

**8pm. – 11pm.** Dinner with Prince Philipe, Dowager Princess, Genovian military advisors.

**December 22: 8am. – 9am.** Breakfast with members of Genovian Oliver Grower's Association

**10am. – 11am.** Christmas-tree lighting ceremony, Genovian palace courtyard

**11:30am. – 1:00pm.** Meet with Genovian Historical Society

**1pm. – 3pm.** Lunch with Genovian Tourist Board

**3:30pm – 5:30pm.** Tour of Genovian National Art Museum

**6pm. – 7pm.** Visit Genovian War Veterans Memorial, place flowers on grave of Unknown Soldier

**7:30pm. – 8:30pm.** Change for dinner

**8:30pm. – 11:30pm.** Dinner with the Royal family of Monaco

Etcetera. There's exactly one upside to the jam-packed schedule for this trip, and it's that the reason it's all jammed in like this is so that Mia's introduced to as many public figures and members of Genovia's government as possible, so that whenever she's in Genovia in the future, she **won't** have a schedule this packed, unless it's for a special formal event or something. Like touring another country. Of course, Mia expects she'll be dead of exhaustion and jet lag before then, but the sentiment is what Mia's desperately clinging to.

The whole schedule culminates in her appearance on Christmas Eve, when her dad gives an annual televised address to the Genovian people, during which he's going to formally introduce her to the public as his heir. Mia is then going to give a whole speech about how she promises to try to do good job as his heir and when she steps into his position, and lead Genovia into the twenty-first century.

Nervous? Mia? About going on television and promising 60,000 people she, a fourteen-year-old, won't let their country down? Nah. She's not nervous.

She just also wants to vomit, scream and cry – in that order – whenever the thought crosses her mind. That's all.

There are some, minute, aspects of this whirlwind tour – she does actually want a tour of the palace, and listen to more about the history of Genovia (because she's willing to bet that the Historian Society will be more accurate in their retelling than Grandmere usually is. Call it a hunch), and she honestly doesn't mind that she'll have to meet a bunch of officials – you have to be passionate about your job to get high up enough in a government that you meet the royalty, after all, so Mia bets that she'll hear interesting stuff, more or less.

But GOD, it's going to be exhausting all crammed in together.

And despite Mia trying really, _really_ hard to look on the bright side, she can't lie and say it's possible to do that when you're at dinner with Clarisse Renaldo.

At this particular Sunday dinner, though, there was a fourth person: Sebastiano Grimaldi, her cousin. He's her dead grandfather's sister's daughter's son. So technically, he's her first cousin once removed(?), but he's also not removed enough that, if not for Mia's existence, he wouldn't be inheriting the throne of Genovia.

Seriously. If her dad had died without ever having a child, Sebastiano would be the next Prince of Genovia.

Which is probably why, whenever her dad looks at Sebastiano, he heaves a giant shudder. Although that probably has more to do with Philipe's relationship with Sebastiano being more like that of Mia's with her own cousin Hank Thermopalis: in theory, you like them, but in physical practice they annoy the hell out of you.

But Clarisse adores Sebastiano. Truly, she really does; when Mia met Sebastiano for the first time, and he literally bowed over Mia's hand with a big flourish and a kiss to Mia's knuckles, Clarisse was beaming beneath her silk pink-and-gold turban.

Mia's never seen Clarisse beam before. Glare, plenty of times. But never beam.

Which might be why Mia's dad started chewing the ice in his whiskey in a very irritated manner. Clarisses's smile disappeared immediately when she heard the chewing, and her trademark glare was swung her son's way, and she hissed out, "If you want to chew ice, Philipe, you can go and have your dinner at McDonald's with the rest of the proletariats."

Philipe stopped chewing his ice.

That's how scary Clarisse Renaldo is. She can make adult men who run countries as their day job stop chewing ice with one sentence.

Sebastiano was in New York at Grandmere's request, it turned out, because Mia needed a formal dress to wear for her big speech on Christmas Eve, and Sebastiano was one of the most up-and-coming fashion designers in Genovia – according to Grandmere, anyway. She said that its important that Genovia supports its artists and craftspeople, or they will flee to New York, or even worse, Los Angeles.

Which is a shame for Sebastiano, in Mia's opinion, because he looks like a guy who'd probably like LA a lot – he's thirtyish with dark hair long enough he tied it in a ponytail for dinner, and he's all tall and flamboyant-looking. He'd dressed for dinner in a white silk shirt, a blue velvet jacket, black pants that Mia's pretty sure are leather, and a white ascot instead of a tie. He at least looked the part of someone who cared deeply about his clothes, although was about as happy to sit at a table with someone wearing dead cow skin as she was to eat her Thanksgiving lunch with Claire of the dead horse skin skirt, but at least cows are killed for more than their skin.

Still, Mia's okay to forgive Sebastiano for his leather pants if he could make her a really good dress – you know, the kind of dress that she could be seen in, god willing, by Michael Moscovitz, and the sight causes all thoughts of Judith Gershner to flee his mind and be replaced with nothing but Mia, Mia, _Mia_.

Of course, the chances of Michael _actually_ seeing Mia in the dress are basically nil, because the speech is only going to be on Genovian TV, not CNN or anything except maybe as a background image as the anchors talk about her speech or whatever.

Sebastiano seemed ready to take on that challenge, though, because he pulled out a pen from his jacket and began sketching – right on the white tablecloth! – a design he thought might accentuate what he called Mia's narrow waist and long legs. Which was a pretty flattering description of Mia, honestly.

But Mia got kind of bored waiting to be included in Grandmere and Sebastiano's conversation – given that she couldn't even see the design he was drawing, so she got up to join her dad on the balcony. He was checking messages on his phone, and making sure his racquetball game with the prime minister of France was still scheduled for Tuesday.

"Mia," Philipe said when he saw her on the balcony, "what are you doing out here? It's freezing, go back inside."

"In a minute. I want some air." Mia stood next to him and looking out at the city. It really is an awe-inspiring sight, Manhattan at night. You look at all those lights in all those windows and you think for each light there's at least one person, but maybe even more, maybe like ten people, and well. It's pretty mind-boggling.

Mia's lived in Manhattan her whole life and it still impresses her.

Anyway, Mia's standing there, looking at all the lights, and she realised that one of them probably belonged to Judith Gershner, wherever she lived (she and Lars had dropped of the Computer Club near their homes after Halloween and Rocky Horror, but Mia was half-asleep at that point and couldn't remember where Judith lived to save her life), and Judith was probably doing something really smart and impressive or whatever. Maybe she'd graduated to cloning crickets or moths. Mia got another flash of Judith and Michael at the ice rink the day before, when they'd smiled at each other when they left to take the subway back to the Moscovitz apartment. Let's think: a girl who can clone things, or a girl who can't stay in a conversation with her grandmother and cousin. Which girl would _you _choose?

Philipe must have noticed something was wrong, because he said, "Look, I know Sebastiano is a bit much, but just put up with him for the next couple of weeks. For my sake."

"I wasn't thinking about Sebastiano," Mia said sadly.

Philipe made a grunting noise, but also no move to go back inside, even though the windows had frosted over from the freezing cold, and Philipe, well. He's completely bald. Mia watched the tips of his ears and nose start going red from it, but her dad didn't budge.

She figured this was an invitation to go on. Ordinarily, her dad wasn't someone she went to with her problems – it's not that they weren't close, but he's her _dad_. What does he know about her problems?

On the other hand, Philipe generally had a rotation of model-like girlfriends every summer of Mia's youth, so Mia figured he might just be able to offer some insight for Mia's particular dilemma.

"Dad," Mia began, "what do you do if you like someone but they don't know that?"

Philipe stopped looking at his phone, and instead looked at Mia. "Do I know this someone, or is this a hypothetical?"

"You know them, but we can pretend it's a hypothetical. If you want."

Philipe twisted his mouth up in one corner. "I'd rather have a name."

Mia hesitated. She'd never admitted to anyone out loud her crush on Michael. Really, who could she tell? Lilly would probably make fun of her, or worse; and her mum had her own problems.

"It's Lilly's brother," Mia blurted, all in a rush.

Her dad looked alarmed. "Isn't he in college?"

"Not yet," Mia said, "he's going to Columbia in September." When her dad still looked alarmed, Mia said, "Don't worry, Dad. I don't stand a chance. Michael is very smart, he'd never want someone like me."

Which got her dad all offended. It was interesting to watch, because his face twitched this way and that, like he couldn't figure out which to be, worried about Mia liking an older boy, or angry the boy didn't like Mia back. "What do you mean, he'd never want someone like you?" He demanded. "What's wrong with you?"

"Duh, Dad," Mia said. "I practically failed Algebra, remember? Michael is going to an Ivy League school, which he got into early choice, for crying out loud. What would he want with someone like me?

Now her dad looked really annoyed. "You make take after your mother as far as your aptitude with numbers is concerned, but you take after me in every other respect."

This was surprising to hear. Mia stuck out her chin and tried to believe it. "Yeah."

"And you and I, Mia, are not unintelligent." Her dad continued. "If you want this Michael boy, you must let him know it." Her dad looked out at all the lights before continuing in a different, softer tone of voice, "Don't make the mistake I have in the past, Mia, of keeping your feelings to yourself, out of shyness . . . or, worse, pride."

Mia didn't know what to make of that, but her dad sounded . . she wasn't sure. Sad? Wistful? She couldn't help wondering if her dad was talking about her mum. Did he wish he'd said something to her, before she'd met Frank, about how he felt? Really felt, not about Helen leaving the electricity bills in the salad spinner or her work cheques in her sixties gas mask, but how he really felt, deep down?

Maybe so, Mia figured, especially when her dad looked down at her – he wasn't a super tall man, but Mia's five-nine – and his eyelids were all crinkled in the corners as he said softly, "Faint heart never won fair lady, Mia."

What do you say to that, though? It's a pretty loaded sentence.

"You think I should just walk up to Michael or something and be all, 'Hey, I like you'?"

The spell on Philipe had been broken, all wistfulness gone as he shook his head disgustedly, saying, "No, no; of course not. You need to be more subtle than that, Mia. _Show_ him how you feel."

"Oh." Mia may take after her dad in all respects but math, but she had no idea what he meant from that. She kept having this picture of showing Michael how she felt about him by grabbing his face during Gifted and Talented and sucking his tongue into her mouth.

Maybe as a last resort.

"We'd better get back in," her dad said. "Or your grandmother will suspect us of plotting against her."

What else is new? Grandmere was always suspecting someone of plotting something against her. Her current belief was that the launderers at the Plaza were plotting against her, because Grandmere blamed the soap used on the Plaza linens for making Rommel's fur all fall out.

;;

Monday was a standard, but god, the Final Exam schedule made Mia want to curl up and cry.

**FINAL EXAM SCHEDULE**

**December 14 – Reading Day**

**December 15 – Periods One and Two**

So, that's Algebra and English. Mia's totally acing English, her grades never getting lower than an A minus since maybe second grade; but her tutor-sessions with Michael during G&T and her after-school sessions with Frank were still totally necessary for her to even _understand_ what Frank was talking about in class.

**December 16 – Periods Three and Four**

World Civics – totally easy. Between Nick ranting about Pre-and-During World War II Europe and Grandmere yammering about Post-War Europe, Mia could pass that in her sleep.

But what the heck counts as a final in P.E.?

**December 17 – Periods Five, Six and Seven**

Gifted and Talented? Mia's pretty sure you can't give tests in classes that are basically study hall. French is seventh period, and she's aces at oral, but not the best at written. Tina's in the same class though, so maybe they can study together.

Sixth period is Biology, and things have been kind of weird between Mia and Kenny ever since she rejected him on Halloween. It's been getting better, but having a conversation isn't always the easiest between them.

**December 18 – (Non-Denominational) Winter Carnival and Dance**

The Winter Carnival should be fun. All the different school clubs and stuff set up booths, with traditional winter fare, hot cider and stuff. This is followed in the evening with the winter dance, which Mia _wants_ to go to, but she doesn't have a date, so unless she third-wheels her entirely friend group (likely, at this point), she'll spend the night at her home like she spent the Cultural Diversity Dance after she told Josh Ritcher to take a hike.

But it's her last night in NYC before her whirlwind month-ish in Genovia, and she wants to have fun! She leaves the next day, for god's sake! She should just buy herself a corsage and go stag and hang out with her friends. Maybe some other boy will have done the same and she can make a new friend for the night or something. Maybe make out with a boy for the night. It wouldn't be Michael, but at least then she'd be able to talk to her friends about kissing instead of staying quiet whenever the subject comes up during sleepovers.

;;

Given that Mia had her dad's tacit permission to try and date an older boy, Mia figured that asking the girl who consumed romance novels like M&Ms wouldn't be a bad idea. Tina Hakim Baba was always a great go-to for advice with romance stuff, because she knew so much from her reading, so Mia joined her in the ladies' between third and fourth periods while Tina was putting on her eye makeup.

Her dad wouldn't let her wear makeup, see, so Tina had to wait until she got to school until she put it on. Mia wasn't sure why that rule wasn't overturned by Tina's mum, given that the woman was a former supermodel, but she also didn't ask. Tina had a deal with her bodyguard Wahim (Tina's dad was super rich in oil and also vaguely related to the royal family of Saudi Arabia somehow, and he's paranoid Tina was going to get kidnapped and held for ransom). The deal is that Tina won't tell her parents about how much Wahim flirts with Mademoiselle Klein, their French teacher, if Wahim won't tell her father about Tina's Maybelline addiction.

Somehow, their conversation got to the point that Mia spilled the whole crush thing to Tina, and she had the reaction that Mia'd hoped she'd have – functionally, the opposite of the reaction she'd expect from Lilly – she jumped up and down in a circle, squealing happily, "I knew it! I knew it! I knew it!"

Then she stopped jumping and grabbed Mia's arms, grinning up at Mia from her height at five-foot-five. "Oh, Mia," Tina said excitedly, "I always thought you two would make the cutest couple."

Mia wanted to fling her arms round Tina and give her the biggest hug, for both being happy and also because Tina didn't dismiss Mia's crush as totally out of her league. "Really? You don't think it's stupid?"

"Duh," Tina said, in a total this-should-be-obvious way that was totally sweet. "Michael is _hot_. And he's a senior. Wait." The shine on Tina's face faded a little. "What about Judith? I don't know if they're dating or not."

Mia slumped. "I know. Tina, I don't know what to do."

Tina's dark eyebrows furrowed in concentration. "I think I read a book where this happened once. _A Heart's Storm_, I think it was called. How did they resolve everything?" that last bit was muttered to herself, but anything more Tina was going to say got cut off by the school bell. They were totally late to class.

But, also totally worth the tardy demerit. Now, Mia didn't have to worry alone.

;;

Lunch was . . . distracting, for Mia, because she'd gotten caught against Michael while she was getting a second serving of lunch, and she'd asked him about a dental appointment he'd had, and then she'd immediately gotten distracted while he was talking, because she'd been focusing entirely on Michael's lips. Look. They just _looked_ soft and super kissable, and Mia wants to get in on that, okay?

But somehow she'd managed to not make an ass out of herself, and now she's in G&T, and she's not being distracted by Michael, because he is actually using class time to work on his personal project the way G&T time is _supposed _ to be used – it's a class to work on individual projects: Michael was doing some computer program for the Computer Club booth for the Winter Carnival, Lilly's boyfriend Boris was learning some new sonata on his violin. Lilly was supposed to be working on her public-access TV show and Mia was supposed to be studying Algebra, but _doing_ your individual project was honestly always more optional than anything else, because Mrs Hill, the 'teacher' of Gifted and Talented, generally spent all the class time across the hall in the Teacher's Lounge. Today she was yelling at someone from American Express on the phone.

So instead of working on their projects, Lilly was railing to Mia about how mad Lilly was at their English teacher, Mrs Spears, who shot down Lilly's term-paper proposal. Which was a stance Mia could kind of understand – it w_as_ kind of inflammatory and . . what's a good term? _Personally-biased_ offer of a topic.

_**How to Survive High School by Lilly Moscovitz**_

_Having spent the past two months locked into that institution of secondary education commonly referred to as high school I feel that I am a qualified authority on the subject. From pep rallies to morning announcements, I have observed high-school life and all its complexities. Sometime in the next four years I will be released from this festering hellhole, and then I will publish my carefully complied High School Survival Guide._

_Little did my peers and teachers know that as they went about their daily routines, I was recording their activities for study by future generations. With my handy guide, every ninth grader's sojourn in high school can be a little more fruitful. Students of the future will learn that they way to settle their differences with their peers is not through violence, but through the sale of a really scathing screenplay – featuring characters based on those very individuals who tormented them all those years – to a major Hollywood movie studio. That, not a Molotov cocktail, is the path to true glory._

_Here, for your reading pleasure, are a few examples of the topics I will explore in 'How to Survive High School':_

_High School Romance: Or, I cannot open my locker because two oversexed adolescents are leaning up against it, making out._

_Cafeteria food: Can corndogs be legally listed as a meat product?_

_How to communicate with the subhuman individuals who populate the hallways._

_Guidance Counsellers: who do they think they're kidding?_

_Get Ahead by Forging: The Art of the Hall Pass._

Mia, personally, wants to read the HELL out of this book. Although she does get Mrs Spears maybe not liking it so much, given that Lilly refers to Mrs Spears' place of work as a 'festering hellhole', calling other students 'subhuman', and also that Lilly thinks that being in high school for one semester means she's an expert (as well as admitting she knows how to forge hall passes), so Mia isn't surprised at Mrs Spears' reaction:

Lilly – Sorry as I am to hear that your experience thus far at AEHS has not been a positive one, I am afraid I am going to have to make it worse by asking you to find another topic for your term paper. An A for creativity, as usual, however.

Mrs Spears.

While Mia read all this, Lilly decried how appalled she was that, considering how much AEHS tuitions costs, this is the kind of support the students receive from their teachers. When Mia tried to point out that Frank was actually going rather above and beyond the call of duty by staying behind after work hours to help students who aren't doing so well in Algebra. Such as, say, Mia.

Lilly fired back that Frank probably only started pulling the staying-after-school thing so that he could integrate himself with Mia's mother, and now he can't stop because then she'll realise it as all just a set-up and divorce him. Which is some rather ludicrous conjecture, in Mia's opinion. Frank didn't even meet Mia's mother in person until he'd been tutoring her for a full two weeks – everything before then was just phone calls. Besides, Frank would've stayed behind to help whether he was dating Mia's mum or not. He's that kind of guy.

Anyway, the upshot/downshot of all this is that Lilly's decided to start another of her campaigns.

**Lilly: **The real problem with this school isn't the teachers. It's the apathy of the student body. For instance, let's say we wanted to stage a walkout.

**Mia:** A walkout?

**Lilly:** You know. We all get up and walk out of school at the same time.

**Mia: (dubious)** Because Mrs Spears turned down your term paper proposal?

**Lilly: (impatient) **No, Mia. Because she's trying to usurp our individuality by forcing us to bend to corporate feudalism. Again.

**Mia:** Oh. And how is she doing that?

**Lilly:** By censoring us when we are at our most creatively fertile. Michael, can you send a mass email to the student body, declaring a walkout tomorrow at ten?

**Michael: (not looking up from his laptop)** I can, but I won't.

**Lilly:** WHY NOT?

**Michael:** Because it was your turn to empty the dishwasher last night, but you weren't home so I had to do it.

**Lilly:** But I TOLD Mum I had to go down to the studio to edit the last few finishing touched on this week's show!

**Michael:** Look, if you're having time-management issues, don't take it out on me. Just don't expect me to meekly do your bidding, especially when you already owe me one.

**Mia:** Lilly, no offence, but I don't think it's a good time for a walkout anyway. It's almost Finals.

**Lilly:** SO?

**Mia:** So some of us really need to stay in class. I can't afford to miss any review sessions. I'm getting bad enough grades as it is.

**Michael:** (looking up from his laptop) Really? I thought you were doing better in Algebra.

**Mia:** If you call a D plus better.

**Michael:** Aw, come on. You have to be making better than a D plus. Your mum is married to your Algebra teacher!

**Mia:** Frank doesn't play favourites.

**Michael:** I would think if he doesn't mind you calling him _Frank_, he'd cut you some slack, is all.

**Lilly:** WOULD YOU TWO PLEASE PAY ATTENTION TO THE SITUATION AT HAND, WHICH IS THE FACT THAT THIS SCHOOL IS IN VITAL NEED OF SERIOUS REFORM?

But then it was the end of class, so as far as Mia knows, the walk-out is a no-go.

The fact that Lilly's term paper got rejected is also kind of weird for Mia, though, because Mia isn't anywhere near as smart as Lilly, but Mrs Spears was very enthusiastic about Mia's proposal topic: _**Cinderella - She Didn't Want A Prince, She Wanted a Night Off: an argument against the misinterpretation of how dances and social class used to work, and our cultural history's misunderstanding of the Cinderella tale**_.

And Mia's isn't nearly as socially relevant as anything Lilly ever talks about.

;;

Mia totally gets that her appearance is going to be important for her future public life, and that probably nothing she owns is good enough for the nine billion appearances she's got scheduled for Genovia, but does Grandmere really think that any of that will be resolved by her scolding Mia for a million years about her posture?

And it's especially degrading now, because Mia's surrounded by Sebastiano and his twenty assistants as they take Mia's measurements. Because now, apparently, Sebastiano isn't just designing her formal inauguration dress, but almost all the outfits Mia's going to wear over Christmas, apparently. Grandmere is droning about how Mia, when in Genovia, should wear as many Genovian-designed-and-made clothes as possible, as a show of patriotism.

Which basically means that Mia's only going to be wearing Sebastiano, apparently. He' the only Genovian fashion designer Mia's ever heard of.

Whatever. Mia can think of so many other topics than her winter wardrobe.

Which Grandmere seemed to have caught on to, because midway through Sebastiano's description of the beading he was going to have sewn on to the formal gown's bodice, Grandmere slammed down her Sidecar and shouted, "Amelia, what is the matter with you?"

Mia must have jumped a foot in the air. "What?"

"Sebastiano asked if you prefer a sweetheart or square-cut neckline?"

Mia stared at her grandmother blankly. "I get a choice?"

Grandmere gave the Evil Eye. She does it quite frequently.

"Sebastiano," Grandmere said, "will you please leave the princess and myself for a moment." It wasn't a question.

Sebastiano bowed and left the room, followed by the slim ladies that made up his professional entourage.

It didn't take long for Grandmere to draw out Mia's crush – the path of least resistance was often the best manner in dealing with Clarisse Renaldo.

What Mia would like to know is why the hell she ended up with a Grandmother like Grandmere – Lilly and Michael's Nana remembers the names of all their friends, bakes them food all the time and worries that they don't get enough to eat, even though the Drs Moscovitz are more than capable of bringing home groceries or ordering out.

Tina's grandma lives in Saudi Arabia, sure, but Tina says that she always cooks spicy curries and sends Tina flavourful teas, along with recommendations for romance novels, because Tina's grandma also loves romance novels and wants her granddaughters to 'meet a nice man'.

Mia ended up with a Grandmere who smokes constantly with a hairless poodle and nine-carat diamond rings whose greatest joy seems to be making fun of the things that make Mia upset, as well as being the cause of Mia being upset.

Mia's never been able to figure out why this is, either. Mia's never done anything to Grandmere. Except be her only living grandchild, anyway. Every summer, Mia's always done whatever mind-numbing boring thing that's turned out to be princess training, and maybe she's complained about that, but it's not like Mia's ever told Grandmere to her face that she thinks Clarisse is a horribly mean old lady who contributes to the destruction of the environment and health of those around her with her private jet, fur coats and filterless French cigarettes.

So when Grandmere dragged out that Mia has a crush on an older boy, Mia can only brace herself for the ridicule.

Except Grandmere doesn't. Make fun of her, that is. Sure, she's sneering and rude, but she also doesn't seem to consider Judith's smarts very highly, either, so . . . not so bad?

But then Grandmere suggested that Mia go stag to the Winter Dance, and if Mia was wearing something from Sebastiano, then Michael _would_ look her way. It was . . "Grandmere," Mia said, "The guy I like? Well, he likes girls who can clone insects. Okay? I highly doubt he is going to be impressed by a dress."

The only reaction Mia got was a sort of suit-yourself "Hmph."

;;

Good god. She's home before 7pm on a weeknight. This hasn't happened since before Halloween.

Seriously, Grandmere is either smoking something stronger than tobacco, or having Sebastiano in town is literally the light of Grandmere's week. Although she did seem pretty normal at their princess lesson, what with making Mia recite the Genovian pledge of allegiance ten times from memory (because she'll have to do it during the school visit, and Mia would prefer not to look like a tool in front of school kids for not knowing it).

Grandmere kept saying this stuff about how Kenny had tried to get Mia's interest – because Mia had told Grandmere about it in a fit of mild insanity during one princess lesson about a month ago – and she kept saying how ingenious it was, the anonymous letters, even if Mia had rejected him.

Mia was like, "What was so ingenious about it?" to which Grandmere replied, "Well. He almost got you, didn't he?"

Anyway, Helen and Frank were so surprised at Mia's arrival home that Mia was put in charge of ordering the takeout, and everyone went a little hogwild with their choices – Mia usually goes for margarita pizza, but this time she got one with a bit more spice that left her tongue all tingly, even after she drank two sodas to cool down her mouth.

It's amazing to be home early, but Mia definitely doesn't have the time to relax. Figuring out gifts for Christmas and Hanukkah, start her term paper, studying and revision, not to mention review the speech for her introduction to Genovia, she's got so much work to do, and for one night only, she might actually have both time and energy to work!

;;

Okay, fine. She's multitasking – she can study and message Nick at the same time.

**FtLouie: **How's life? I feel like we haven't spoken in weeks.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **I've been in detention for this entire week, my uncle is so wrapped up in plans he won't tell me about that he hasn't even gotten mad at me for it, and yesterday the cat jumped down the chimney into the (thankfully unlit) fireplace in my bedroom and scared the crap out of me. You?

**FtLouie: **School is kicking my butt, Grandmere's brought Sebastiano Grimaldi (first cousin once removed) to plot my dress for my speech, my best friend is on the warpath because our English teacher told her she has to choose a new writing topic.

**FtLouie:** What did you get detention for?

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Arguing with my teacher. The usual. Sebastiano isn't so bad – I've met him a couple times.

**FtLouie: **You've met him? How?

**HalfAgonyHalfHope:** My uncle is a desperate social climber despite already being nobility in this country? Duh? It's the same reason he never had a problem with me hanging out with you. Get an in with the probable heir.

**FtLouie: **God your uncle's mercenary.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope:** Somehow, sometimes the horribleness of it almost wraps around itself into being charming.

**FtLouie:** Oh My God.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **What?

**FtLouie: **You know how I mentioned that my friend Lilly is on the warpath? She's just sent this – I think it's a mass email:

**ATTENTION**

**ALL STUDENTS AT ALBERT EINSTEIN HIGH SCHOOL**

**Stressed from too many exams, term papers and final projects? Don't just passively accept the oppressive workload handed down to us by the tyrannical administration! A silent walkout has been scheduled for tomorrow. At 10am exactly, join your fellow students in showing our teachers how we feel about inflexible exam schedules, repressive censorship and have only one Reading Day in which to prepare for our Finals. Leave your pencils, leave your books and gather on East 75****th**** Street between Madison and Park (use doors by main administration offices, if possible) for a rally against Principal Gupta and the trustees.**

**LET YOUR VOICE BE HEARD!**

**HalfAgonyHalfHope:** Lilly is aware that school governing districts are the ones setting homework allotments and exam schedules, right?

**FtLouie: **God, I hope so/not.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Explique?

**FtLouie: **If she does know, then she's taking out her anger on the teacher who can't do anything about it. If she doesn't, then five bucks says she starts a protest against the school governing district.

**FtLouie: **I think she's somehow getting atrophy of the brain from studying or something, because this is insane. 10am is in the middle of Algebra – I can't walk out in the middle of that! Frank would be so hurt!

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Then don't walk out.

**FtLouie: **If I don't partake, Lilly will KILL me! And before you say 'then do it', Dad and Mum will kill me if I do.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Sounds like you're in the middle of a rock and a hard place.

**FtLouie: **No, the hard place will be the delivery truck that runs us all down; there's a billion of them on 75th at that time of morning.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Ooof.

**FtLouie: **My best female friend is a sociopath. What do I do?

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Trade her in for Tina?

**FtLouie: **That's COLD Nick.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **But at least Tina doesn't make you do stuff like THIS.

**FtLouie: **_Uggghhhhhh._

**HalfAgonyHalfHope:** Good luck.

**FtLouie has left the chat.**

Mia can _hear _Nick laughing.


	8. what you look like, or what you have

**What You Think Of And What You Do**

;;

**CracKing: **Did you just get that whacked-out mass email from my sister?

**FtLouie: **Yes. I could feel myself getting gray hairs just READING it.

**CracKing: **You're not going along with her stupid walkout, are you?

**FtLouie: **Oh, right. She won't be _too _mad if I don't, or anything.

**CracKing: **You don't have to do everything she says, you know. I mean, you've stood up to her before. Why not now?

Gee, Michael. It's not like Mia doesn't already have a bunch on her plate, what with Finals, the trip to Genovia, and oh, BEING IN LOVE WITH YOU. Let's just add a fight with Lilly onto that list, shall we?

**FtLouie: **I find the path of least resistance is the safest one when dealing with your sister.

**CracKing: **Well, I'm not doing it. Walking out, I mean.

**FtLouie: **It's different for you. You're her brother. She has to remain on speaking terms with you. You live together.

**CracKing: **Not for much longer, thank god.

**FtLouie: **Oh yeah. Did I ever congratulate you for Columbia? If I didn't, congrats.

**CracKing: **Thanks.

**FtLouie: **At least you'll know one other person there – Judith Gershner is going to Columbia too, isn't she?

**CracKing: **Yeah, I guess so. Listen, you're still going to be in town for the Winter Carnival, right? I mean, you're not leaving for Genovia before the 18th, are you?

**FtLouie: **I'm leaving on the 19th.

**CracKing: **Oh, good. Because you should really stop by the Computer Club's booth at the Carnival and check out this program I've been working on. I think you'll like it.

**FtLouie: **Can't wait. Well, I have to get back to studying. Bye.

**FtLouie has left the chat.**

;;

Okay, here's something ridiculous: something that Grandmere said is keeping Mia awake.

"**He almost got you, didn't he?"**

Which, out of context, if probably an incredibly ominous thing for something to say. But in-context . . . Mia can't believe this, but Grandmere's given her an idea.

Because that was Grandmere's reaction when they talked about Kenny sending her anonymous letters, how he'd been trying to be a secret admirer, get Mia to get invested – of course, Mia wasn't, because she'd been tired and stressed and refused to engage with any of it, but he'd had a decent idea.

Draw someone in, and then when you're confronted and forced to deal with the situation you've built, there's no getting around the point – send someone love letters, there's no hiding the **love**.

So what's keeping Mia from sending her own anonymous love letters to the boy she likes?

It's a plan with some merit. She'll have to think about it a bit more. But it's also 2:45 in the morning, and Mia really needs to go to sleep.

;;

Mia's actually awake now, and she's talked with Tina about it, and here's the plan: Mia's going to write up a poem or note, Tina's going to print it on the cards or letters that Mia produces, and then Tina's going to discreetly drop them in Michael's locker on her way to P.E.

Granted, a card with _Roses are red / Violets are blue / You may not know it / But someone loves you_ printed on the inside isn't the most original thing in the world – and that poem is definitely not Mia's best work – but it gets the point across. Michael's got an admirer who isn't willing to admit it to his face yet.

Mia wasn't sure about the use of the word 'Love' in the poem – doesn't that come off as kind of intense? But Tina said it was the best way to go: "It's the truth, isn't it?"

Lars said that it's not like Mia's actually risking anything, seeing as Mia didn't sign the card and the note's in someone else's handwriting. Mia does think this is a good point, but Lars isn't exactly the most romantic person in the world – he's been divorced twice, and spends all his time tracking Mia's every move.

He should also know by now that you're not supposed to talk in Homeroom.

;;

Dear freaking god, Lilly's still on about the walkout – given her "DON'T FORGET! TEN O'CLOCK! DON'T LET ME DOWN!" that she hissed to Mia in the hallway.

So here Mia is, sitting in Algebra as Frank patiently and cluelessly stands at the whiteboard explaining Chapter Five of their textbooks. It's not his fault that Mrs Spears didn't like Lilly's term-paper topic. Lilly can't really be serious about punishing all the teachers at their school for something one of them did.

Yeah. Of course she is.

Lana leaned back in her chair and hissed "You gonna walk out with your fat friend?" like it was the most imaginative sentence ever. Mia wasn't even able to ask if Lana was going to walk out right back. Not that she ever wants to engage Lana in conversation, but a confirmation that more people than Lilly were on board with ditching class would've been nice for Mia's nerves.

That's a lie. It would've done nothing for Mia's nerves.

;;

Mia had to get out of that classroom.

And now here she is, with the stupid hall pass, standing next to the second-floor drinking fountain, trying to remember to breathe. She'd really appreciate it if Lars would stop giggling. This is a bad enough look, and now Justin Baxendale's given her a weird look as he passed by with his own hall pass.

Justin Baxendale overtook Josh Ritcher as hottest guy in school when he was declared MVP during the water-polo semi-finals, and Mia totally gets why – he is stupidly good-looking, all muscular but lithe, with smoky eyelashes. Mia knows how weird it is, seeing a too-tall freshman girl just standing by the water fountain, a six-foot-four bodyguard with a fit of the giggles standing next to her, but that doesn't mean she wants to be stared at, okay?

Here's the situation: If she doesn't walk out with Lilly, she's going to get into a fight with her best friend. She might lose her as a friend.

But if she does walk out, she's going to be totally insulting her stepfather.

There's really only one choice.

Lars offered to do it, take the fall. Mia said no. If she gets caught, it's her own fault.

It's a good thing she's got such long legs. She'll need that stride.

Here we go.

;;

Lilly really can't be satisfied, can she?

Sure, it's not the same thing if everyone evacuates the building due to a fire alarm being pulled as opposed to everyone leaving in protest against the teaching techniques of some of the teachers.

But the result is still the same: standing in the middle of the street in the rain, nobody has coats on because the teachers were too busy hustling them out of the building to keep them from dying in the fires that overtook the school somewhere, even though nobody has seen any kind of smoke, so everyone could maybe get hypothermia and die.

This is the result Lilly wanted, isn't it?

She can't even find something to be happy about, either. She's just yelling, "Somebody ratted us out! Somebody told! Why else would they schedule a fire drill for exactly the same time as my walkout? I'm telling you, these bureaucrats will stop at nothing to keep us from speaking out against them! Nothing! They'll even make us stand out in freezing drizzle, hoping to weaken our immune systems so we'll no longer have the strength to fight them. I, for one, refuse to catch cold! I refuse to succumb to their petty abuses!"

Mia suggested that Lilly write her term paper about the Suffragettes, because they, like Lilly, had to put up with numerous indignities in their battle for equal rights.

Lilly told her to shut up.

;;

Okay, so if there's _already_ a general idea of what Mia's dress is going to look like, why _exactly_ was if necessary to make Mia try on every. single. dress. that Sebastiano brought from his collection? Pink ones, white ones, blue ones, this one lime-green one Sebastiano said brought out the colour in her cheeks; short dresses, long ones, Disney-princessy ones, this modernised recreation of Princess Diana's wedding dress that Sebastiano had made for some reason.

God, it was this nightmare of hollow-cheeked women in white buttoning and zipping and snapping Mia in and out of dresses. No wonder supermodels end up doing drugs, if this was their day job.

It turns out that Sebastiano is a pretty good designer, because Mia actually couldn't choose a favourite out of the dresses.

Mia couldn't imagine that Sebastiano was actually disappointed to not get to be Prince of Genovia – she'd had this idea that maybe he resented her for that – because Sebastiano seems to really like being in the fashion industry. Although Mia could tell that if Sebastiano _were_ Prince of Genovia, he'd totally wear a crown all the time. He told Mia that nothing brings out the sparkles in someone's eyes like pear-shaped diamonds.

Since they were getting so casual and honest and all, Mia told Sebastiano all about the Winter Dance and how, even though she doesn't have a date, she'd like to go, even though she doesn't even have a dress for the thing. Sebastiano was disappointed that Mia wouldn't be wearing a tiara to the school dance – although he seemed to perk up when she told him about the wire-and-crystals one that Nick gave her once – and he started asking Mia about the dance. Things like "Do you actually want a date? What does the boy look like?"

Somehow, Mia ended up spilling everything about her love life – she totally didn't want to, but it just tripped its way out of her mouth. Thank GOD Grandmere was off in search of more cigarettes and Sidecars; none of this was information she needed.

Sebastiano was actually a really good listener – Mia wasn't actually sure if he was understanding what she was saying, because his eyes never felt Mia's reflection as she talked, and when she was done he looked her up and down in the mirror and just said, "This boy you like. How do you know he doesn't feel the same?"

"Because," Mia said. "He likes this other girl."

Sebastiano made this impatient motion with his hands. "No, no, no, no," he said. "He helps you with your math work. Why would he do that if he doesn't like you?"

Mia had to think for a bit. Honestly, it was because Michael was very Frank-esque in that regard: he can't watch people suffer at things he excels at. He has to at least _try_ to help. While Mia thought of this, she remembered all those times when Michael's knees would brush against hers under the table; or when he leans close enough she can smell the soap he uses in the shower on his skin; or how sometimes, like when Mia's doing her Lana Weinberger imitation or whatever, Michael throws his head back and laughs and laughs.

Michael looks his best when he's smiling.

"Tell me," Sebastiano said. "Tell me why this boy helps you if he doesn't like you."

Mia sighed. "I'm his little sister's friend." Really, could this be _any more_ humiliating? Michael's clearly never been impressed with Mia's ravishing good looks or razor-sharp intellect.

Sebastiano straightened the shoulders of the dress Mia was wearing and went, "Don't worry. I'll make a dress for your dance. This boy doesn't think of you as that. You'll see." His French-Italian accent – the native of Genovia – was very soft as he said this.

Anyway, a dress was actually decided on for the televised introduction: it's a white thing with a floor-length skirt that make Mia look kind of like Aurora in Sleeping Beauty, silhouette-wise anyway, with three-quarter sleeves and a light blue sash so she'll match the colours of the royal family. Still, Sebastiano still had all his assistants take a billion photos as she tried on the dresses, and they'd made jokes and she'd laughed for some of them, so it wasn't all bad.

But none of this was so bad as what happened during her after-school tutoring session with Frank. After everyone else had left to go home, Mia had lagged a bit, and Frank had asked her, "Mia, I heard a rumour that there was supposed to be some kind of student walkout today. Had you heard about that?"

Mia'd frozen in her seat and just gone, "Uh. No."

"Oh. So you wouldn't know then," Frank said. "if somebody – maybe in protest of the protest – threw the second-floor fire alarm? The one by the drinking fountain?"

Mia really wanted Lars to stop coughing like that. If he was trying to be discreet, he was failing. "Uh. No."

"That's what I thought. Because you know the penalty for pulling fire alarms – when there is, in fact, no sign of a fire – is expulsion."

"Oh, yes. I know that." Didn't Mia used to be a better liar? She was borderline pathological? Why is she sucking so much at this?

"I just thought you might have seen who did it, since I gave you a hall pass shortly before the alarm went off."

"No. I didn't see anyone." Except Justin Baxendale of the smoky eyelashes.

Frank was kind of smiling, like he'd heard a subtext in the conversation Mia hadn't meant to give. "I didn't think so. Oh, well. If you ever hear who did it, maybe you could tell them from me to never do it again."

"Okay . . ?"

"And also tell them thanks, as well. The last thing we need right now, what with tensions with Finals, is a student walkout. See you at home."

And he freaking WINKED at her as he walked out the door! Like he knew she did it, he knew SHE knew he knew she did it, and that this whole thing was totally fine in Frank's book!

Argh. Frank was better when she only knew him as a teacher.

Okay, that's a lie. But GOD if life wasn't simpler.

;;

Mia's going to have Lars kill Lilly if she doesn't shut up. Seriously – Mia checked his job contract on a whim once, and it's in there that Mia can actually ask Lars to, quote 'commit a physical act against any who might pose a threat to the Princess' wellbeing'. Well, Lilly's posing a threat to Mia's mental wellbeing, in that she's DRIVING MIA CRAZY.

Look, Mia's got enough going on – school, Genovia, her love life – without also having to listen to Lilly go on and on about how the administration of Albert Einstein High is out to get her. Yes, this is apparently the WHOLE administration; because she once complained about the soda machine outside the gym. Apparently, machine is indicative of the administration's efforts to turn their students into mindless soda-drinking, Gap-wearing clones.

If you ask Mia, this isn't about the soda machine, or the attempts from the school to turn their students into pod people. It's all because Lilly's still mad she can't use a chapter of the book she's writing on the teen experience as her term paper. And she said as much – if she doesn't submit a new topic, she's going to get an F as her nine-week grade. Factored in with her A from the rest of the semester, that levels out to a C-ish, which will drag her grade-point average way down. Which her parents definitely will not forgive Lilly for.

Lilly didn't even listen, which made Mia wish she'd been meaner. Lilly just decided that she's having an organisational meeting of a new school group (of which she is president), Students Against the Corporatisation of Albert Einstein High School (SACAEHS) on Saturday, and Mia has to be there because she's the group's secretary. Yeah, because Mia d_efinitely_ doesn't have _anything else_ happening in her life that she could do on Saturday.

If Michael had been in the limo, none of this was probable to happen, because Michael was good at talking Lilly down like that, but he'd been taking the subway to school early for the last two weeks to get there early and work on his project for the Winter Carnival.

Mia didn't doubt that Judith Gershner had been getting up on the early side too.

On the topic of Michael, Mia had found an old unused card in her room, and she was going to have Tina write _Roses are red / Cherries are redder / Maybe she can clone fruit flies / But I like you better_.

Still not her best, but whatever.

;;

**English Journal**

_**This semester we have read several novels, including To Kill A Mockingbird, Huckleberry Finn and The Scarlet Letter. In your English journal, please record your feelings about the books we have read, and books in general. What have been your most meaningful experiences as a reader? Your favourite books? Your least favourite?**_

**Books I have read and what they meant to me**

**Books that were good:**

Good Omens – An angel and a demon accidentally misplace the Antichrist and need to find him before the Apocalypse and stop it from happening, because A) the end of the world will get in the way of their self-care routines, and B) the Antichrist has a curfew.

A Wrinkle in Time – scifi/fantasy book that actually has a female main character and doesn't make her into some ridiculous nonsense character? Yay!

Persuasion – This is my friend Nick's favourite Jane Austen book, and it's the only one I was able to read and fully get the first time I read it. All the other ones I had to read twice to fully understand everything. Also I relate to Anne so freaking much, it's not even a joke.

The Great Gatsby – Nick was totally in love with Gatsby, and you will never convince me otherwise.

Doctor Jekyll and Mister Hyde – I swear, Frankenstein shouldn't be the pop-culture mad scientist character. It should be Jekyll: He's as ACTUAL certified doctor, not an irresponsible undergrad dropout, rigorously documents his experiments, and uses HIMSELF as a test subject because he's not a COWARD.

**Books that sucked**

The Scarlet Letter – you know what would have been cool? If there had been a rift in space-time and one of those Eurotrash terrorists Bruce Willis is always chasing in Die Hard dropped a bomb on the town and blew it sky high. That's about the only thing I can think of that would make this book in any way interesting.

Our Town – this is a play and not a book, but we read it anyway and all I can say is that, basically, you find out when you die that nobody cared about you and we're all alone forever. You know. It's a feel-good play.

Little House on the Prairie – Little yawn on the big snore. I have all ninety-seven thousand of these books because everyone kept giving them to me when I was little and all I can say is that if Half Pint had lived in Manhattan, she'd have gotten her butt kicked from here to Avenue D.

;;

No P.E. on Thursday, instead an assembly. About what? Well, usually when P.E. gets cancelled, it's because there's some sporting event to show support for. But not this time. There wasn't a cheerleader in sight. Well, yes there was, but none of them were in uniform, they were all sitting in the bleachers with everyone else; although a good ten of them were jostling each other trying to sit closest to Justin Baxendale.

Instead of a pep rally, it appeared that a major act of disciplinary infraction has occurred at AEHS. An act of vandalism that has shaken the administration's faith in the student body. Which is why they called an assembly, so that they could better convey their feelings of – as Lilly put it – disillusionment and betrayal.

And what was this act so heinous Principal Gupta and the trustees are up in arms.

Why, someone pulled a fire alarm yesterday, that's what.

Oops.

Listen, probably the single delinquent-esque thing Mia's ever done before this was drop and eggplant out of a window, but that doesn't mean Mia wants to commit to the kind of behaviour that leads to people getting hurt. She's not going to be a punk from an eighties movie any time soon.

But it also gave her a little thrill, having all these people coming up to the microphone and decrying her behaviour.

Although she probably wouldn't be feeling this way if she'd gotten caught.

And having to listen to Gupta go on about how she should turn herself in to absolve herself of guilt that will surely follow her for the rest of her teen years and beyond.

Pff, yeah, sure. Mia's TOTALLY going to be obsessing over a fire alarm she pulled in ninth grade a decade from now.

The administration is offering a reward for information leading to the perpetrator being caught – a free movie pass to the theatre. That's all Mia's worth! One free movie, and you'd still have to pay for your own food!  
The only person who could possibly turn her in isn't even paying attention, anyway: Justin's got out a Gameboy and is totally ignoring the whole thing. Although Mia gets the sense that either Justin hasn't put two and two together yet, and possibly never will, or he just doesn't care.

Frank though. He doesn't seem to have told anyone he suspects her. Or maybe he thinks Lilly did it and Mia knows. Lilly totally wishes she'd done it, Mia can tell that much, because Lilly keeps muttering that when she finds out who did it, she's going to kill that person, etc.

She's just jealous, obviously. That's because now the fire alarm is being seen as some kind of political statement about the school, instead of what it actually was: a way to prevent as political statement.

;;

Thank god her father is actually able to be reasonable – Mia's got no more princess lessons until after her finals! YES!

Granted, it's solely because she NEEDS to study for her finals, and in his own words "For God's sake, mother," (Grandmere was trying to keep Mia from leaving the Plaza to stay and be grilled on the cabinet ministers) "if she hasn't got it by now, she never will."

Which is true. Grandmere's been drilling etiquette into Mia's head since before Mia even knew she'd ever need it, and they've been focusing on all the ins and outs of Genovia ever since Halloween.

So Mia actually got home at a reasonable time and actually got some studying done, for once.

;;

Okay, listen. Mia has no desire WHATSOEVER to be a juvenile delinquent, and she's going to stand by that. But if people are going to keep reacting to the things she does like they're the worst actions ever, then Mia cannot be held responsible for her reactions.

What if she gets expelled?

Because she's sitting outside Principal Gupta's office, waiting to be called in.

And if Mia is getting expelled, Lana should be punished too, because she totally started it. Mia had been sitting perfectly fine in Algebra, when Lana turns around in her seat and slaps a copy of _USA Today_ on Mia's desk, some article about 'Most Popular Young Royal'.

Mia had come in at third-most popular. The reason? 'Not outgoing'.

_Ironically, Princess Mia is perceived as being as shy as Princess Diana when she first stepped into the harsh glare of the media spotlight._

Mia read the stupid article and then passed it back to Lana, asking, "So?"

"So," Lana whispered, "I wonder how popular you'd be – especially with the people of Genovia – if they found out their future ruler goes around pulling fire alarms when there isn't any fire."

She was only guessing. Mia would bet her freaking tiara that Lana was only guessing, like Frank was. Unless Justin Baxendale figured it out and mentioned it to Lana (unlikely, Mia's so far off Justin's radar as to be non-existent), then Lana, like Frank, just finds it a coincidence that the fire alarm went off maybe three minutes after Mia'd gotten a pass to go to the bathroom.

But even if Lana had just been guessing, it seemed to Mia that she knew and was going to make sure Mia would never hear the end of it.

Honestly, Mia isn't sure what came over her. Maybe it was

A) Stress of Finals,

B) The impending trip to Genovia,

C) The fact that Mia's in love with a guy going out with a human fruit fly,

D) her mother's impending motherhood of her Algebra teacher's baby,

F) the fact that Lana has been bullying Mia practically their whole lives and pretty much getting away with it, or-

All of the above.

But whatever Mia's final provocation, she just snapped. It was like she was outside her own body, watching as she reached over to Lana's desk and snatching up Lana's phone, where she'd had it sitting next to her calculator.

And the next thing Mia absorbed, she had put that thing on the floor and crushed it into chunks beneath the heel of her combat boot.

;;

She's going to cop an earful for this from Grandmere, Mia just knows it.

She's suspended. And yeah, it's only for one day, but Grandmere insults Mia's choice in shades of lipstick, okay?

And even her parents aren't that mad, especially when Mia said the attack was provoked. Of course, she didn't say what the provocation WAS, but the general consensus seems to be that the stress of everything is just getting to Mia.

Well, her dad did beg a little in the limo he'd come to school into pick Mia up after getting The Call, but Mia didn't budge and Lars stayed silent, so her dad just went "Fine," and his mouth got all scrunchy like it does when Grandmere has one too many Sidecars and starts calling him Papa Cue Ball.

Anyway, Mia's at home now with her mum. She hasn't been doing much painting lately – apparently the scent of wet paint makes her feel queasy since she got pregnant. Instead she's mostly been doing a lot of sketching in bed, mostly of Fat Louie as he sits on the bed, watching pigeons on the fire escape outside the window.

Helen's trying to be all TV Mom(TM) about Mia being home, sketching Mia and trying halfheartedly to grill Mia about Why Did You Break Lana's Phone, and, well. It kind of worked, a little? Because Mia just ended up spilling her guts a bit – about school and Finals, and Michael and Judith and the notes, and the Winter Carnival and Dance, and Lilly and her protest and how Mia has to be a part of it whether she likes or not, and basically everything except the fire alarm.

Helen stopped drawing midway through all this and just looked at Mia. "You know what you need?"

"What?"

"A vacation."

And then they sort of had a vacation, right there on the bed. Helen didn't let Mia go and study. Instead, Mia ordered pizza, and then together they watched a movie of the Lifetime Channel; and it was almost like old times. You know, before Helen met Frank and Mia had to be a princess.

Except, of course, not really, because Helen's pregnant and Mia's suspended.

But it was still nice. Nostalgic.

;;

It's nice knowing she has the support of her friends, even when they have no idea why she needs support. Apparently, the News of Mia's suspension got through school pretty quickly, and now Mia's got about thirty supportive emails for Mia's decision to Stay Firm in Her Refusal to Back Down Against the Administration (what? All she did was crush a phone. That has nothing to do with the school administration). Lilly even went far enough to compare Mia to Mary, Queen of Scots, who was imprisoned and beheaded by Elizabeth the First.

Mia is a little confused for the comparison, because there were a Lot of reasons for Mary's imprisonment, but also she's kind of bemused that Lilly feels this way, because Mia will bet her top dollar that Lilly wouldn't be so supportive if she knew the actual reason Mia broke Lana's phone.

Lilly wrote that it's all a matter of principle – Mia was banished from the school for refusing to back down from her beliefs. Actually, Mia was banished for destroying someone else's private property, and she only did it to cover up another crime she committed.

Everyone else, however, is choosing to view this as a great political act, and during the first meeting of the Students Against the Corporatisation of Albert Einstein High School, Mia's case is going to be held up as an example of one of the many unjust decisions of the Gupta administration.

Tomorrow, Mia might just develop a weekend case of strep throat.

Anyway, she wrote back everyone, telling them how much she appreciated their support, but also to please not make a bigger deal out of it than it needed to be.

And she wrote all this to Nick, too. She didn't hear back – the timezone change was a bit of one, back in Genovia, and often their emails and chat messages, if they wanted instantaneous responses, were conducted either late at night (for Mia) or early in the morning (for Nick). But she knew he'd get a kick out of all this, because Nick admitted that he used Mia to live vicariously as someone with actual relaxed parents – his uncle was very strict and scary, and Mia honestly never liked being near the man, so Nick loved hearing about whatever dumb thing Mia had done, and he used that as a way to relax and unwind from how his uncle ran his life.

Honestly the best thing about Mia's upcoming trip to Genovia was that she'd get to see Nick in person again – which was probably the one major upside to ANYTHING about being a princess: she'd see Nick for more than a summer per year.

;;

**CracKing: **Hey Thermopalis, what's this I hear about you getting suspended?

**FtLouie: **Just for one day.

**CracKing: **What'd you do?

**FtLouie: **Crush a cheerleader's phone.

**CracKing: **Your parents must be so proud.

**FtLouie: **If so, they've been doing an admirable job of hiding it so far.

**CracKing: **So are you grounded?

**FtLouie: **Surprisingly, no. I told them the attack was provoked.

**CracKing: **So you'll still be coming to the Carnival next week?

**FtLouie: **As secretary to the Students Against the Corporatisation of AEHS, I believe my attendance is now a requirement. Your sister is planning for us to have a booth.

**CracKing: **That Lilly. Always looking out for the good of mankind.

**FtLouie: **That's one way of putting it.

Okay, this is the second time Michael has checked that Mia's coming to the Carnival. What's up with that?

;;

Well, the first meeting of SACAEHS might very well be the last, given that only Mia and Boris showed up.

Lilly is utterly inconsolable over the fact that only two people showed. Mia tried to tell her that everyone is too worried over Finals to be concerned with privatisation at the moment, but Lilly doesn't seem to care. She's sitting with Boris on the couch, crying into his shoulder as he speaks to her in this low, soothing voice. Boris kind of irks Mia, what with the violin and his insistence on always tucking his sweaters into his pants and the weird brace his orthodontist makes him wear; but even Mia can tell he genuinely loves Lilly. Like, even as she cries about how she's going to call her congressperson, he's got this sweet, loving gaze that makes Mia's heart hurt.

_She_ wants a boy to look at her like that.

;;

Okay, so SOMEHOW, Mia's day has gone from 'Meh' to 'GOOD FREAKING GOD, WHY?' in about an hour.

So, she was hanging out at Lilly's, waiting for her to calm down, and Lilly's parents come in from their sessions with their personal trainers, and they'd brought with them the Sunday edition of the _New York Times_, large sections of which, for some reason, arrive on a Saturday if you have a subscription. See, normally, the Drs Moscovitz will go to their Sunday sessions, and stop on the way home for some lattes and the paper. This day was no different. But surely you can imagine their surprise at opening the paper and finding a supplement about the Princess of Genovia's modelling debut.

Seriously.

Mia did suspect that Sebastiano was more than he seemed, and maybe she had these weird fantasies that Sebastiano was going to design her dress to, who knows, strangle her like the one in the original Grimm Brother's version of Snow White? Well, the only murder Sebastiano is going to able to handle right now is his own, because when Mia's dad gets his hands on him, Sebastiano is one dead fashion designer.

The spread was called _Fashion Fit for a Princess_. Yes, genuinely. Mia can't really blame him, honestly. They'd taken a billion photos of Mia in his _whole collection_, and Sebastiano is a businessman. Having a princess model your clothes – you can't buy exposure like that. And obviously more outlets are going to pick up the story – Princess of Genovia Makes Modelling Debut.

With one photo spread, Sebastiano will be international. With a clothing line it will look like Mia has endorsed.

Grandmere isn't understanding AT ALL why Mia's so upset. All she's saying is "You look perfectly beautiful!" over and over. She is getting Philipe's anger better, what with the whole 'my daughter is being used as advertisement' thing.

And why is Mia so upset? Maybe because she's NEVER wanted to be a model. Because she's always wanted to be an activist, a humanitarian – fashion is not her passion.

Her classmates are SO not going to get it. They won't believe Mia didn't pose for the pictures. They are going to think she's a sellout. They're going to think she's a stuck-up model snob.

Mia would_ so_ prefer being a juvenile delinquent.

It'd be a lie to say she look bad. She looks pretty okay. What they'd done was take all the photos and put them on a purple background in the paper, and Mia won't lie that she looks pretty good in some of the pictures, given that she was actually having a decent time, when Sebastiano would make her laugh and twirl in the dresses.

But she can't figure out what he was thinking – honestly, she's a little hurt. She'd thought that maybe they'd bonded a little, when he'd asked her all those questions about Michael. Guess not.

Her dad is on the warpath – he's called the _Times_ and demanded that they remove the supplement from all the papers not delivered yet, and called the concierge of the Plaza and insisted on Sebastiano being listed as persona non grata, which means the cousin of the Prince of Genovia isn't allowed to set foot on hotel property.

Even Mia found this pretty harsh, but not as harsh as Philipe wanted to be – he wanted to called the NYPD and press charges against Sebastiano for using the likeness of a minor without the authority of her parents, but thankfully Grandmere talked him down, pointing out that there'd be enough publicity over all this without needing the scandal of an arrest.

Philipe though, is still so mad he won't sit still – pacing back and forth and making Rommel the hairless poodle all nervous, watching Mia's dad with his head moving back and forth like he's watching a tennis match.

If Sebastiano were in Grandmere's suite, Mia would be that her dad would smash up a lot more than just his phone.

;;

**FtLouie:** Well, Grandmere's certainly done it now.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **What'd Clarisse do this time?

**FtLouie: **You know how Sebastiano was in NYC to make me a dress for my introduction?

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Yes.

**FtLouie: **Well, I tried on all his dresses – you know, to figure out what looked nice – and his assistant took all these photos. I figured they'd go into a portfolio or something, but instead he, with Grandmere's permission, instead sold the photos to the newspaper for a weekend spread photoshoot. Behind everyone's back.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **YIKES.

**FtLouie: **Pretty much! And I don't think I could ever actually forgive Grandmere for this – like, I know she's an old lady with old-fashioned ideas and stuff, and somewhere in her cold, dead heart she probably loves me, but if she actually cared, she WOULDN'T DO THIS!

**FtLouie: **Like, her reasoning was that 'Mia suffers from a terrible self image and needed a boost'.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **And she figured the best way to help your self-image would be to go behind your back and self your photos to advertisements for clothing?

**FtLouie: **That's what Dad said. It also shut her up for a good twenty minutes.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Jesus. How'd your mum react?

**FtLouie: **She pulled out the supplement and put it on the fridge and drew devil horns on the pictures.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **You have to admit that's kinda funny.

**FtLouie: Yeah**, but the whimsy won't stop me from being ridiculed at school on Monday.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope: **Hang in there. A few days later and you won't even be on the continent.

**FtLouie: **It's all that's keeping me going right now.

**HalfAgonyHalfHope and FtLouie have left the chat.**

;;

A/N: This chapter and the next one were originally going to be one big chapter, but then I looked at it and where I was in the story and realized that doing that meant that chapter 2 of this was ELEVEN THOUSAND WORDS AND COUNTING. So here's a six thousand break between the first chapter and the end of the story. Book 3 is a three-shot.

I'd originally planned for Nick to make a physical appearance in this story arc, but I realized that where this one ends is a good point for this arc, so I'm going to write an in-between thing for books 3 and 4. It'll be all about Mia's trip to Genovia, and I promise, I promise, we'll have Nick there.


	9. or what you have

**What You Think Of And What You Do**

;;

Aside from Nick's support, Mia's gotten seventeen emails, six phone calls and one visitor (Lilly) about the fashion thing.

Lilly's trying to claim that people aren't even paying attention to the paper, and that the supplement's being thrown away without anyone even looking at it.

But if that were true, why are so many people calling?

Because even if Lilly's trying to say that it's friends who still want to talk about Mia's suspension, Mia knows that it's definitely because they're trying to figure out why Mia sold out.

Because this has been her Brand for a while now – you know, environmentalism, and decrying the fashion and modelling industries for their sexism and racism and cultural vandalism of the feminine psyche because they've spent the last hundred years carefully reinforcing a worldview where all that matters for a woman is her looks, see, all the advertisements say so, and how those industries are part of the planet's problems with pollution and waste and inhumane labour and how refusing to partake might not solve everything, at least the dip in their sales shows the CEOs that some people do actually care!

And with ONE newspaper spread, Mia's reputation is just. Down the drain.

She's never going to let Grandmere hear the end of this.

;;

Okay, somehow pulling an all-nighter has gotten Mia NO CLOSER to understanding her Algebra work. Lilly's come over, because she wants to study for World Civics, so they're alternating: Lilly's quizzing Mia on Algebra, Mia quizzing Lilly on World Civ. This isn't the most balanced thing ever, because Lilly's totally making an A in Algebra, but Mia quizzing in World Civ. is helping her study too.

;;

Tina's over. Her younger brother and sisters were driving her crazy.

It's not like Mia could tell her she couldn't, okay? Besides, she brought bagels and vegetable cream cheese, AND was nice enough to not really mention the newspaper thing, except to say that Mia shouldn't care about other people's opinions on it, because Mia looks so hot.

;;

Michael told Boris where Lilly was, so now the group's four-people large, and studying is getting so much harder.

Why does Frank think right NOW is a good time to practise his drums?

;;

Mia mentioned to Lilly, who agreed, that Boris plus the drums meant that studying kind of stopped happening; so instead they all took a break and went to Chinatown for dim-sum.

Great Shanghai was honestly a great time, eating vegetarian dumplings and dried sautéed string beans with sauce. Mia ended up sitting next to Boris – and even though he honestly kind of irks her – he really made her laugh, engineering it so that whenever the wait staff brought something new to the table, the only place to put the food was right in front of them, so they'd have first dibs on it.

Boris really is a nice and funny person. Lilly's so lucky.

Of course, no good thing can last, even without it meaning to.

Some little Chinese-American girls came up to Mia and wanted to know if they could have her autograph, handing her pens and the _advertising supplement_ that had appeared in the _Times_. She signed it, even though she kind of wanted to jam a chopstick into her left eyeball. Like, these sweet little girls wanted her autograph, and for what?

Not her tireless work trying to save the habitat for polar bears, not her humanitarian work helping whales and starving kids.

Because she'd been in a magazine in a bunch of dresses, and she's tall and skinny like a model. How's THAT an accomplishment?

After that, Mia got a massive headache and everyone decided to just go home, given the wasted time they'd spent eating. Does it count as a 'study break' if the break is longer than the time you'd spent studying?

Once Mia got home, things didn't really improve, but they also didn't continue to suck. Apparently, according to her mum, Sebastiano had called four times and also had a dress delivered for the Winter Dance.

It wasn't the kind of dress Mia would've grabbed for herself off a rack. Honestly it looked kind of boring – dark green velvet with no embellishments, with long sleeves and a wide square neckline.

But when she put it on . . . she - she honestly looked amazing. There was a note attached from Sebastiano, reading

_Please forgive me._

_I promise this dress will not make him think of you as his little sister's best friend._

_S._

Which is very sweet. Sad, but sweet. Sebastiano can't know, of course, that the Michael situation is hopeless and no _dress_ will make a lick of difference, no matter how nice Mia looks in it.

But hey. Sebastiano _apologized_, which is more Grandmere can claim. And none of this mess was really his fault – he'd met Mia like, five minutes before Grandmere gave him permission to do what he did. It's not like he knew that Mia would've hated any prospect of it. They were virtual strangers.

And it's also kind of Mia's fault too, when she thinks about it – she could've simply said 'No photos, please'. But she got so carried away, seeing herself in those beautiful dresses, that she forgot being a princess is about more than looking good: it's about setting an example to people – people you don't even know and may not ever meet.

Which is why if she doesn't pass the stupid Algebra test, she is so dead.

;;

Tuesday: Algebra and English finals: DONE.

Wednesday: World Civics: DONE.

Thursday: DONE.

THE FINALS ARE DONE!

And guess what? Mia's pretty sure she's passed all of them. Even Algebra; the grades aren't posted until Friday, but she bugged Frank about it for about five hours straight last night and he finally caved and said, "Mia, you did fine. Now leave me alone, all right?"

She did FINE. You know what FINE means, right?

SHE PASSED! WHOO!

Thank God that's all over. Now she can concentrate on the main important thing: her social life.

It's in a state of borderline disrepair – with the exception of Mia's friends, the whole school seems to have decided she's a big fat sellout.

Well, she's going to show them. Right after the World Civ. exam yesterday, it hit her like a ton of bricks. She knew exactly what to do. It's what Grandmere would do.

Okay, not exactly what Grandmere would do, but it's definitely in the spirit of Grandmere's brand, and it will solve the whole problem. Granted, it'll probably make a problem for Sebastiano, but he should have asked MIA what she wanted done with the pictures, not Grandmere.

Honestly, this is the most princessy thing Mia's done so far, and she's also doing it with minimal adult interference. She's pretty nervous.

But she's also not willing to sit back and take the abuse from her peers. And she's also doing this – functionally – by herself, if you don't count the help from the Plaza concierge in getting a room, Lars making all the calls on his phone, Lilly helping her write down what she was going to say and Tina doing her hair and makeup.

But other than those four people, it's been Mia's own actions making this happen.

Here we go.

;;

It's seven on a Thursday evening, and Mia's watched herself on all four major networks, plus New York 1, CNN, Headline News, MSNBC and Fox News Channel. Apparently, it's also going to be shown on _Entertainment Tonight, Access Hollywood _and _E! Entertainment News._

For a girl with self-image issues, Mia thinks she did a pretty good job. She didn't mess up, and if she spoke a little fast, well, you could still _understand_ what she was saying. She looked good, too. She probably should've worn something other than her school uniform, but royal blue comes off pretty well on TV, and it was neat enough to look professional.

The phone's been ringing constantly since it first aired. The first person was Sebastiano, screaming about how Mia's ruined him – which she felt pretty bad about, it's not like she meant to, especially since he was so nice about making her a dress for the school dance.

But what was she supposed to do? She tried to make him see the bright side: "Sebastiano," she said, "I haven't ruined you. Really. It's just that the proceeds from the sales of the specific dresses I'm wearing in the ad will go to Amnesty International."

Sebastiano kept up the screaming a bit more, but Mia pointed about that it was actually a stroke of genius, that the donation of those specific thirty-some dresses' sales were a perfect idea: Mia's made it clear a lot that she's more politically concerned than fashion-concerned, and she knows that there's a decent amount of girls who look up to her for that, especially online. When Sebastiano launches his clothes, those girls won't hesitate to buy from him, because they'll see him as having the same values as Mia. The dresses will fly out of the stores.

She must have picked up a couple more things from Grandmere than she thought, because by the time Sebastiano hung up, he was completely on her side. He almost seemed to think it was his idea.

The next person on the phone was her dad. He was laughing his head off, wanting to know if it had been her mum's idea, and when Mia said no, that was all her, Philipe went "You have got the princess thing down, you know."

In a weird way, Mia feels like she passed that Final, too.

Except, of course, Mia's still not on speaking terms with Grandmere. Not a single phone call Mia's received (including one from her Thermopalis grandparents in Indiana) have been from her Renaldo grandmother. Really, though, Clarisse should be the one apologizing to Mia, because what she pulled was totally underhanded.

Almost as underhanded, her mum pointed out over sesame noodles during dinner, as what Mia did.

Which was sort of shocking to have pointed out to her. She'd never thought of it that way, but her press conference was about as sneaky as Grandmere ever was.

Almost it really should have surprised anyone – there might be a generation between them, but Mia is definitely a product of Clarisse Renaldo.

Of course, so were Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader.

Mia's going to go watch _Star Trek: Deep Space Nine_ now. She hasn't been home early enough to watch it in weeks.

;;

Naturally for Mia, however, not all good things last.

Weirdly, though, this time it came from an unlikely source: Tina. She called, mostly to talk about the Secret Snowflake thing happening at school – Mia hadn't signed up for it, but Tina had, and her Snowflake had been leaving her flowers at her locker for a couple days now. She found it super sweet and romantic, even though her boyfriend Dave was definitely _not_ the one doing it (he went to another school entirely, for pete's sake). No problem with this conversation topic.

And then she did bring up the bad topic: "Finals are over, so . . . when are you going to tell Michael that you're the one sending him those cards?"

Mia's eyes were dinner plates, even though Tina wasn't even in the room. "How about never?"

To which Tina replied rather tartly, "Mia, if you don't tell him, then what was the point of sending them?"

"To let him know that there are other girls out there who might like him, besides Judith Gershner."

Tina got severe. "Mia, that's not enough. You've got to tell him it was you. How are you ever going to get him if he doesn't know how you feel?" Tina Hankim Baba, surprisingly, has a lot in common with Philipe Renaldo. "It won't be like with Kenny, okay? You guys are _meant_ for each other. I can _feel _it. You've got to tell him, and it's got to be tomorrow, because the next day you're leaving for Genovia."

How is Mia's memory so bad? She'd gotten so wrapped up in congratulating herself over the press conference that she'd forgot that she's due to spend eight hours in a jet with Grandmere. Who she isn't speaking to!

That'll be _fun_.

Mia told Tina she'd confess to Michael, just to get her to hang up happy, totally unaware that Mia was _lying her ass off_.

There is _no way_ she's telling Michael how she feels about him. _No_. Not to his face.

She just can't.

;;

Okay, so why exactly does this school bother keeping all the students around another day? Just give them the Friday off – there's no classes, so everyone's just trapped in their homeroom until they pass out the final semester grades. _Then_ everyone gets freed to go to the Winter Carnival.

Hey, here's an idea: Don't bother with the Carnival, email everyone their grades, and _let Mia go home_ to pack for her trip, because tomorrow she's going to leave for a country she's barely been to that she's going to have to _rule_ one day, with her lunatic grandmother who is currently not on speaking terms with her father, and who, from Mia's own personal experience, is not above smoking in the airplane bathroom, if the urge to do so strikes her.

Grandmere is a flight attendant's worst nightmare, is the point.

And that's not even the half of it – Mia's never actually been away from Manhattan for Christmas before, and her mum and Frank are acting like it's totally fine that Mia's leaving, because of course the three of them are having a little Christmas before she leaves, but that doesn't make it all okay.

And what about her Algebra grade? Sure, Frank says its fine, but what is fine, exactly? A D? A D is not fine. Not considering exactly how much of Mia's own personal and class time has been put into raising her stupid grade from an F, a D is simply **not** acceptable.

When she gets those stupid grades back, f_inally_, she doesn't even bother looking at them, she just holds the stupid paper face-down and rushes out the room door the second the bell rings, Lars barely keeping up.

;;

Why is Michael at her locker?

Like, why?

Hers is nowhere near his, but she doesn't even get to open her mouth, because Michael's looking at her, all expectant, and he asks, "What's the verdict?"

What? And she repeats herself out loud.

"What did you get in Algebra?" Michael asked slowly, as if Mia was dense.

Which, of course, she is. So dense that she never realised how much in love with Michael she was until Judith Gershner came along and swept him right out from under her nose.

Anyway, Mia flips over the print-out of her grades – and would you believe that she's raised her Algebra F all the way to a B?

Which just goes to show that if you spend nearly every waking moment in your life studying something, the likelihood is that you're going to retain at least a little of it. Enough to get a B minus on a Final, anyway.

She doesn't want to gloat, but it's hard to be unhappy about this. There is absolutely no way she got that grade because the teacher is her stepfather. There's nothing subjective about Math the way there is in English. You're either right or you're not. And she was right. Eighty per cent of the time.

Mia didn't even tell Michael what the grade was before she threw her arms around his neck in a giant hug, making a victorious noise at a pitch she's pretty sure dogs can hear. It was pretty loud.

Of course, Michael was about as excited as she was, so that made it all pretty great.

And for all their school's administrators might be grasping, they definitely knew how to throw a party. Lilly was actually impressed.

All the school clubs were really trying to have a good time as well, besides the epic spread of food and drinks supplied by the school – ballroom dancing in the gym, courtesy of the Dance Club; fencing lessons in the auditorium, thank you Drama Club; ever the junior varsity cheerleaders were teaching their craft in the first-floor hallway.

Mia tripped over Lilly at the Students for Amnesty International booth (Students Against the Corporatisation of Albert Einstein High School didn't submit their application for a booth in time to get one, so Lilly was stuck at the Amnesty International booth), and guess who got an F in something?

"Lilly," Mia couldn't believe it! "Mrs Spears gave you an F in English? _YOU_ got an F?"

She didn't seem too bothered by it, though. "I had to take a stand, Mia. And sometimes, when you believe in something, you have to make sacrifices."

"Sure," Mia said, "But an _F_? Your parents are going to kill you."

"No they won't. They'll just try to psychoanalyse me." Which is true. The Moscovitz's were definitely those kinds of parents.

Which was when Tina came over to drag Mia to the Computer Club's booth.

Quite possibly, the last thing Mia wanted to do that day. She already looked over at it, and she knows what's going on. Michael and Judith and the rest of the student computer experts were all sitting behind a bunch of monitors, and when someone came up, they'd sit down in front of one of the monitors and play a computer game the club designed where you'd walk through the school and all the teacher were in costume – Principal Gupta in a dominatrix outfit with a whip, Frank in footie pyjamas with a teddy bear. They used a different program when the club applied to be part of the carnival, of course, so none of the teachers or administrators knew what everyone is sitting there looking at.

You would think they'd wonder why all the kids were laughing so hard.

Whatever. Mia didn't want to go near it, but Tina was just making her anyway.

"Now's the perfect time to tell him," was her reasoning.

This is what happens when you tell your friends anything. There's a reason Mia only ever did that with Nick – he a continent away, and couldn't _make_ her do anything.

;;

Okay, so it turns out that when you take a limo from her school before the hours of two-to-four in the afternoon, it's actually a pretty speedy drive from AEHS to her home.

Which is good, because Mia wanted to _hyperventilate_, and she wanted to do it in her own bedroom.

Look, she'd never planned on actually _telling_ Michael about her feelings. Or that she was the one sending the letters.

But she also couldn't avoid the Computer Club's booth – for one, they had a good vantage view of the room, and if Mia had yanked herself completely away from Tina, they all would've seen, and a Scene would've happened. Plus, Michael had specifically asked Mia so many times to make sure she'd be stopping by. There was no avoiding it. She wasn't about to confess, though.

Tina was going to have to live with disappointment, okay? You don't get as stupid over someone like Mia has for Michael and then just go 'Oh, by the way, I'm in love with you'.

You just _don't __**do**_that.

Whatever.

Mia went up to the booth with Tina, and everyone there was all giggly and excited because the programs were actually doing so well, and there was actually a decent lineup, but Michael saw them and went, "Come on up!"

Like they were supposed to cut in front of a bunch of other people. Well, they _did_, of course, but everyone grumbled, and who could blame them? They'd been patiently waiting their turn.

But maybe because of Mia's night before – when she went on TV and explained that the only reason she'd done the clothing ad was because the designer was going to donate the proceeds to charity – she'd actually been a little more popular at school.

Anyway, Michael was all "Mia, sit at this one", and pulled out a chair in front of one specific monitor. So she sat and waited for the game to come on, listening to the other kids laughing, and she just found herself thinking, for some reason, _Faint heart never won fair lady_.

Which was a dumb as hell thought to have, because Michael was a brunette, for one. For another, he was definitely not a lady.

Somewhere in the middle of this, Mia heard Judith ask, "Wait, what are you doing?"

And Michael just said, "It's okay. I have a special one for her."

And then the screen in front of her flickered, and Mia just thought, okay. Here's the stupid teacher thing. Make sure to laugh so they think you like it.

She actually felt a little depressed at this point, despite the day's good points. Like, yeah, she was going to the dance after this, even though she had exactly no date, so it wasn't like she'd have anyone to dance with when her friends inevitably went off with their boyfriends; and everyone had been chatting around her about their holiday plans, going skiing in the mountains or to the Bahamas or whatever, and what's Mia's plan? Hanging out with a bunch of members of the Genovian Olive Growers Association. Sure, they were all probably nice people, but come on.

She's fourteen. She wants to hang out with people her own age.

And then tomorrow, she's going to spend just about all of it on a plane with her dad and his mother, who still aren't on speaking terms (and since she's also not speaking to Grandmere, that flight'll be _fun_), and when she gets back, knowing her luck, Michael and Judith will be engaged, probably.

That's what she was thinking as she sat there in front of that computer. That, and _You know what? I'm not really in the mood to see any of my teachers in funny outfits._

Only when the flickering stopped, that's not what Mia saw. What she saw was this castle. Like, out of the tales of King Arthur, or Beauty and the Beast or something. And the picture zoomed in and flew over some castle walls and a courtyard with a big fat garden, all covered in blooming red roses. It was really well rendered, all details, and Mia just found herself sucked into that image.

A banner floated across the screen, in front of the roses, like it was blowing in the wind. It had some words written on it, and eventually it stopped flapping, and Mia could make out what was written in that gold leaf.

_Roses are red_

_Violets are blue_

_You may not know it_

_But I love you too_

Mia's head just. Snapped up, and she locked eyes with Michael. He was smiling. Why was he smiling? Was this a joke? Her feelings were a joke to him? How did he know about her feelings?

She didn't even say anything, but she could feel herself tearing up.

No. No, okay. She's _not_ going to cry in front of him. She's _not_.

So instead of saying anything, she just bolted out of her chair, racing for the door. She barged past Tina, and through the middle of the Computer Club's line, and Lars had to race to follow, and she could hear Michael call, "Mia!"

But she kept going, hearing a couple footsteps try to keep up with her – more than Lars, so probably Tina and Wahim too – because that's just what she needs, an whole _audience_ to this meltdown.

But only Lars seemed able to keep up with her – the track coach was always trying to convince Mia to join the team for the first month of classes, because Mia was pretty speedy when she put in the effort. Her stupid-long legs were handy that way.

She didn't even stop by her locker to grab her stuff. She could do it when she got back from winter vacation, okay? Or Frank could grab it before he came home. Whatever.

She just bolted out of the building, into the student parking lot. The car had been on standby basically the whole day – they were allowed to leave early if they wanted to, so Hans, the driver, had just packed a couple books for himself as he waited.

Mia didn't say anything at all, just threw herself into the backseat, making this loud, unhappy noise.

Hans was pretty startled when she did this – she always made sure to be pretty polite to him, because Hans always had a smile for her and he was a very patient driver even in the worst traffic. "Princess?"

Mia was straight up sobbing. Lars got into the shotgun seat. "The princess is distressed. I don't know why, but taking her home would be best."

Hans looked back at Mia. She just nodded, tears sliding down her face.

Hans started the car.

Mia didn't look back at her school. If she had, she would've seen Tina, Lilly and Michael all watch her leave.

But here she is.

In her room. Why can't she be left alone, please? She's got a lot of packing to do (no, she's Not thinking about how Grandmere will probably have an entire wardrobe decided for her in her room at the palace before she gets there, she doesn't want to think about Grandmere), and she wants some privacy.

But she's Mia Thermopalis, so of _course_ she won't get what she wants. She gets constant calls, emails and uninvited people coming over.

Well, she doesn't want to speak to anyone. Not Lilly, or Tina, or Nick (who doesn't even know what's going on, but that doesn't matter, because she'll see him tomorrow or the day after or something. She can't sit down and explain this all to him right now. She doesn't want to), or her Dad, or her Mum, or Frank, or ESPECIALLY Michael, even though at last count he'd called four times.

And with her headphones on she can't even hear the other side of the door.

It's pretty peaceful.


	10. It only has to do with what you think of

**What You Think Of And What You Do**

;;

People have a right to privacy. If she wants to go into her room and lock the door and not come out of have to deal with anyone, she should have a right to. People should not be allowed to _take the hinges off her door_ and _remove_ it. That's completely unfair.

Well, she's foiled them. She's out on the fire escape. It's zero degrees out and snowing a little, and her butt is probably frozen to the metal through her wool sweater and overalls, but no one's followed her yet.

It's sort of nice out here. The sun's going down pretty quickly, and all she can hear is the hiss of the snow as it lands on the metal of the fire escape, and the occasional siren or car. It's restful.

Mia needs a rest.

She doesn't want to leave her life entirely, okay? But maybe her trip to Genovia could extend a bit. Say, to the end of the school year, and after the summer vacation. She can come back to start tenth grade at AEHS. Everyone will have forgotten about today's mess, and Michael will be in college by then, and she won't have to talk to him or see him again, ever.

Okay? That's not a bad plan, right? Nine months in Genovia, soaking up the sunshine, maybe lie on that beautiful beach.

Sure, she'll miss her Mum – she's leaned out the window maybe twenty times, begging Mia to come inside – but her Mum can visit her in Genovia while Mia's away. Of course, not once she's in her seventh month, but any point before then would be cool. And then the next time she visited, she could bring Mia's new sibling along too. Or Mia could come home a little early and help out with her new brother or sister, before school goes back. Frank can come too – he's leaned out the window twice himself, asking her if she wants any of the chilli he made for dinner. There's some with no meat in it, just for her.

Her Mum's so lucky to have found a guy as nice as Frank. Good thing she knows it, too.

Her Dad's pretty cool too. Mia'll have a nice time, probably, living with him full time. He's even come over to the apartment, wanting to get Mia inside. He said he's very proud of her, on account of the press conference and the B in Algebra. He wanted to take her to the Zen Palatte for dinner. How nice is that? A totally vegetarian restaurant.

Too bad he had Lars had her door off, or she might have gone with him.

Her next door neighbour just noticed her. Ronnie, who used to be called Ronald but now introduces herself as Veronica, wants to know what Mia's doing, out on a fire escape in December.

Mia told her she needed some privacy, and this is apparently the only way she can get it. Ronnie just replied, "Honey, I know exactly how that is."

Ronnie's so nice, she gave Mia her electric blanket to borrow, plugged into the outlet beneath her air conditioner by the window.

Mia watched Ronnie put on her makeup, because she's going out for drinks with her boyfriend. Ronnie wants to know if Mia's been driven to the window by stuff at school. Mia explained it all, and Ronnie shook her head and said that it was good to know that things haven't changed very much from how it was when she was at high school – same petty drama everywhere, apparently. Although it was definitely worse for Ronnie than it is for Mia. Mia's been a girl her whole life. Ronnie's only been one for about a decade.

;;

That was freaking random. And weirdly sweet.

Guess who just joined Mia on her fire escape.

Didn't guess?

_Grandmere_. Seriously! There Mia was, being all depressed, wrapped in Ronnie's blanket (Ronnie had to go, but left her window open with the electric blanket plugged in, saying that she trusted Mia to give it back when she was done with it), when all of a sudden this big furry sleeve is sticking out her window, followed by a high-heeled boot, and before Mia absorbed what she was looking at, Grandmere was sitting there, blinking at Mia from her full-length chinchilla.

"Amelia," Grandmere said in her most no-nonsense tone. "What are you doing out here. It's snowing. Come back inside." This was even more clipped, because it was all in French. Grandmere had been insisting on teaching Mia her princess lessons almost entirely in French for the last two months, since she found out about A) Helen's pregnancy, and B) the fact that the wedding took place in a courthouse instead of being a lavish affair 'befitting for the mother of Genovia's princess'. No English had left Grandmere's mouth since then.

Probably why Mia got an A minus on that Final.

Anyway, Mia was genuinely shocked to see Grandmere anywhere near her room – she'd only come to the apartment once the entire time she'd been in New York, and she hadn't even set foot in Mia's room at the time. She was even more surprised that Grandmere was willing to climb out onto the fire escape – not to be un-princesslike, but the pigeons that sat on this thing weren't exactly conscientious about not pooping on this thing; and the fact that Grandmere was even speaking to her after what she pulled was just the cherry on the 'surprise' sundae.

But Grandmere got straight to the issue.

"I understand that you are upset with me," she said. "And you have a right to be. But I want you to know that what I did, I did for you."

"Oh, right," Mia said sarcastically, "Grandmere, how can you possibly say that? It was completely humiliating!"

"I didn't mean for it to be," said Grandmere. "I meant to show you that you are just as pretty as those girls in the magazines you are always wishing you looked like. It's important that you know that you are not this hideous creature that you seem to think you are."

"Grandmere, that's nice of you and all – I guess – but you shouldn't have _done_ it that way."

"What other way could I do it?" Grandmere demanded. "You will not pose for any of the magazines that have offered to send photographers. Not _Vogue_, or _Harper's Bazaar_. Don't you understand what Sebastiano said about your bone structure is true, or that his creations all looked wonderful on you? You really are quite beautiful, Amelia. If only you'd just have a little more confidence in yourself – show off once in a while. Think how quickly that boy you like would leave the fly-girl for you!"

Mia sighed. "Grandmere, I told you. Michael likes her because she's really smart. They have a lot of stuff in common – math and science and computers. It has nothing to do with how she looks."

Grandmere made a disbelieving noise. "I think you're being rather naive."

Which is a totally _Grandmere_ belief, isn't it? Looks are the main thing for her, always has been. After all, she loves to say, it wasn't her academic accomplishments that caught Mia's Grandpere's eye – he caught sight of her across a ballroom and promptly fell in love. Smitten by her beauty – or at least, that's how she tells it.

So it makes sense, in her view, that a girl like Judith, no matter how smart, how accomplished, would never be truly desired unless she could clone a fruit fly _and_ look stunning in designer.

"Look," Mia said. "I told you. Michael is not the type of guy who is going to be impressed because I'm in a _Sunday Times_ supplement in a strapless ball-gown. _That's why I like him_. If he were the kind of guy who was impressed by stuff like that, I wouldn't want anything to do with him.

Grandmere didn't look very convinced. "Well. Perhaps you and I must agree to disagree. In any case, Amelia, I came over to apologize. I never meant to distress you. I meant only to show you what you can do, if only you'd try." She spread her gloved hands apart, a smile on her lips. "And look how well I succeeded! You planned and executed an entire press conference, all on your own!"

Mia couldn't help smiling a little. "Yeah."

"And, I understand you pass Algebra."

"Yes, I did."

"Now, there is only one thing left to do." Grandmere sounded like the answer was obvious.

Mia nodded. "I know. Do you think I could spend all next semester in Genovia, you know, really get into the being a princess thing, and come back to Albert Einstein maybe in the fall, for my sophomore year?"

Grandmere's expression, from the light in Mia's room, was one of total disbelief. If this were a movie, there'd be a record scratch with Mia's sentence. "What . . are you talking about?"

"You know. I could finish ninth grade at a school in Genovia. Be a princess on weekends – you can take me to all the formal event you'd want, or something, and the people would meet me and understand me over a period longer than twenty-five days."

"You'd hate it." That was maybe the bluntest sentence her grandmother had ever said.

"No, it might be fun. No time for social drama, you know. Learning all about everything about my country."

Grandmere shook her head. "But . . . your friends – your mother . . "

"Well," Mia reasoned. "They could come and visit."

Then Grandmere's face hardened. She peered at Mia from between the mascara-ed slits her eyelid became. "Amelia Mignonette Grimaldi Renaldo," she said, "you are running away from something, aren't you?"

Mia shook her head innocently. "Oh, no, Grandmere. Really. I'd like to like in Genovia. It'd be neat."

"NEAT?" Grandmere launched to her feet, amazingly gracefully, given the tight space on the fire escape. She pointed imperiously at Mia's window. "You get inside right now."

Mia'd never heard _that_ tone of voice before. And believe it, she'd heard a lot of angry tones from her grandmother over the years.

She crawled back into her room, but not before unplugging Ronnie's blanket and shoving it back through Ronnie's window.

"You," Grandmere said once they were both inside, straightening her skirt, "are a princess of the royal house of Renaldo. A princess," she said, rifling through Mia's closet, "does not shirk her responsibilities, to her people or the people she holds dear. A princess does not run at the first sign of adversity."

"Um, Grandmere," Mia said, "What happened to me today was hardly the first sign of adversity, okay? What happened today was the last straw. I can't take it anymore, and I don't want to. I want out."

Grandmere, ignoring Mia, pulled out the green dress that Sebastiano had had delivered. "Nonsense."

That was all. Then she just stood there, tapping her toes and staring at Mia.

"Grandmere." Mia was feeling rather exposed – she was pretty sure her mum and dad and Frank were in the living room, and could probably hear every word. There was no _door_ on her room anymore. "You don't get it. I can't go back there."

"All the more reason," Grandmere retorted, "for you to go."

"No. First of all, I don't want to face Michael, after what happened, and I bet my friends also knew what he was going to do. I'm such a loser that my friends think it's fun to joke about my feelings like that."

"You are not a loser, Amelia." Grandmere said. Her tone had softened considerably. "You are a princess. And princesses do not run away when things become difficult. They throw back their shoulders and they face what disaster awaits them head on. Bravely, and without complaint."

Mia put her hands to her face. "We aren't talking about marauding Visigoths, okay Grandmere? We're talking about a boy who thinks my feelings are a joke he can make fun of."

"Then you have all the more reason to show that his cruel joke means nothing to you."

"Can't I show him that by not going?"

"Because that," Grandmere said, "is the cowardly way. And you, Mia, as you have shown amply this last week, are not a coward. Now get dressed."

Mia wasn't sure why she did as ordered. Maybe it was because, she knew, deep down, that for once, Grandmere was totally right.

Or maybe because, secretly, she was curious what would happen.

But the real reason was because, for the first time, Grandmere didn't call her Amelia. She said Mia.

And now, provoked by stupid sentimentalism, Mia's in a car going back to the stupid high school she's thought she'd finally ditched not five hours before, in a stupid green dress, to be stared at and whispered about, to confront a boy who thought it'd be funny to make a joke about her feelings.

But regardless of what happens at the dance, Mia found comfort in the knowledge of one thing:

This time tomorrow, she's going to be thousands of miles away from all of this.

;;

When Mia was about to turn six years old, all she wanted for her birthday was a cat.

She didn't care what kind of cat. She just wanted one – a cat of her very own. She and her mum had gone for a visit to the Thermopalis farm in Indiana, one of the three total visits Mia's had to her mum's parents, oh, ever. And the farm had had lots of cats – and one of them had kittens, little fluffy orange and white things, which purred loudly when Mia held them under her chin, and liked to curl up inside the bib of her overalls and nap. More than anything in the world, Mia wanted one of those kittens.

It's worth mentioning that, at the time, Mia had a thumb-sucking problem. Helen had tried everything to get Mia to stop, from buying toys to putting hot sauce on Mia's thumb. Nothing worked.

So when Mia came to her mother, begging to keep a kitten, Helen got the idea: if Mia quit sucking her thumb, Helen would get her a kitten for her birthday.

Which Mia did, immediately. She wanted a cat of her own _that badly_.

And yet, as her birthday rolled around, Mia had her doubts. Even at this age of her youth, she knew her mother wasn't the most responsible person. Why else was their electricity always being turned off? And about half the time Mia was showing up to school wearing both trousers AND a skirt, because her mother let _Mia_ decide what she wanted to wear. So Mia wasn't sure she'd remember about the kitten – or that, if she did remember, she'd know where to get one.

So by the time Mia's sixth birthday rolled around, Mia wasn't exactly holding out hope.

But then, on the morning of her birthday, her mother walked into her room holding a tiny ball of orange and white fur and plopped it onto Mia's chest. Mia remembers looking into Louie's (he didn't become Fat Louie until about twenty-something pounds later) big blue eyes, and she knew a joy such as she had never known before in her life and never expected to feel again.

Until her Non-Denominational Winter Dance for her freshman year of high school, that is.

She's serious.

After the fiasco of Sebastiano and the photos, Mia would've expected to NEVER feel grateful to her grandmother ever again. But she was SO RIGHT to make Mia go back to the dance!

Here's what happened:

Mia and Lars get to the school, and everything is all decorated with twinkly lights, to represent icicles or whatever.

Mia kind of felt like she was going to vomit from nerves, and mentioned it to Lars; he said no, that's not likely, because the last thing she'd eaten was way before lunch, so that food was definitely digested by now. And with that encouragement, Lars frog-marched Mia into the school proper.

There were plenty of people still arriving when Mia did, so Lars went to drop off their coats, and Mia got waylaid by Lilly-and-Boris and Tina-and-Dave, who acted all nice and happy that she'd come (Tina told her later that she'd already explained to everyone some of what Mia's deal had been that day, thankfully, because Mia didn't have a single question thrown her way about her dramatic exit from the carnival).

Fortified by her friends, Mia went to the gym, which was decorated all wintery with cut-out paper snowflakes, a couple disco balls, and fake snow everywhere, which, it should be noted, was a lot whiter and cleaner than any snow outside the building.

There were tons of people in the gym – Lana and Josh (ugh), Justin Baxendale and a flock of his adoring fans, Shameeka and Ling Su and Mia's other friends, and everyone else that were there to have a good time. Even Kenny was there, chatting happily with a girl from their Biology class.

Then Mia saw Judith Gershner. She'd changed out of her jeans into a very pretty red vintage-looking dress. But she wasn't dancing with Michael. She was dancing with a boy Mia'd never seen before.

Mia didn't say anything, about Michael, but she did ask Lilly about the boy. "He's Judith's boyfriend. He goes to Trinity with Tina's Dave. Jesus, Mia. Why do you care so damn much about Judith?"

"Well," Mia was thinking on the fly – not her best way to be. "She's been around a lot more, I thought she and your brother –"

"Were working on that stupid computer program for the Carnival." Lilly was very impatient, looking around like she was trying to find someone. "I don't know what is wrong with you today, but I can't deal with you when you're acting like such a freak. Just sit down –" Lilly yanked Mia into one of the plastic chairs that edged the gym, "and don't you dare get up. I want to know where to find you when I need you."

Mia didn't ask why Lilly might need to find her. She just sat. She wasn't even sure she'd be able to get back up. She was _that_ tired.

It wasn't that Mia was disappointed. She hadn't wanted to see Michael dancing with Judith – at least, a part of her hadn't. A big part.

Another part of her wanted to ask him what he meant by that poem.

But she was sort of afraid of the answer. Because it might not be the one she was hoping it would be.

After a while, Lars and Wahim sat near her, deep in discussion about the advantages versus disadvantages of rubber bullets. So at least her bodyguard was having a good time. What was she doing here, honestly? She'd done as Grandmere commanded. She'd shown up. Proved to her peers that she didn't care about their opinion. Nobody was asking her to dance, while all her friends did.

Then she saw Michael.

Mia got Lars' attention, telling him that she was going into the hallway for some air.

Lars stayed to keep talking to Wahim. But Michael followed her.

He looked like he'd just gotten to the dance – he was out of breath, with an untied bowtie and with snow in his hair.

The hallway was quieter than the gym – everyone who was coming to the dance was inside.

"I didn't think you were coming," Michael said.

"Well, I almost didn't." Mia was sure her face was as red as Judith's dress.

Michael said, "I called a bunch of times. You didn't pick up the phone."

Mia wanted to sink into the ground, have the floor open up like in _It's a Wonderful Life_, and Mia would fall into the pool the floor below and just. Drown. "I know."

Michael looked like he wasn't sure crying was a good idea for him. Like maybe he wanted to. "Mia. With that thing today. I swear, I didn't mean to make you cry."

Maybe death by drowning wasn't enough. The floor could just open into a chasm and she'd just fall for ever and ever. "Then what was it? A bad joke? Were you making fun of me?"

"I knew it was you." Michael said it all in a rush, like if he didn't get the words out _now_, he never would. "I knew it was you, leaving those cards."

Well. It would've felt better if he'd literally ripped her heart out and kicked it across the hallway floor. Mia could feel her eyes well up with tears. "You did?" It almost made everything worse.

"Of course I did." Michael sounded impatient. "Lilly told me."

Mia was shocked. "How did _LILLY_ know?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Your friend Tina told her, I guess. Look, it's not important."

It wasn't? Mia was going to kill them. Forget getting Lars to do it. He could help her hide the bodies. Mia was going to strangle them with her bare hands.

Before she could go back into the gym, though, Michael grabbed her by the shoulders, giving her a little shake, like _Listen to me_. "Mia, it _doesn't matter_. What matters is what I wrote. I meant it. I thought you did too."

Mia wasn't sure she was hearing him right. She blurted, "Of c_ourse_ I meant it."

"Then why did you freak out at the carnival."

"I thought you were making fun of me," Mia said in her smallest voice.

"Never." And that's when he did it.

No fuss, no hesitation. He just leaned down and kissed her, right on the lips.

Tina had been right, at time Mia'd asked her for tips on kissing once, when they'd been bored in French.

Kissing is never gross when you're in love with the guy.

In fact, it's the nicest thing in the world.

Well, aside from Michael also being in love with her, and having kept it a secret almost as long as Mia has.

And Lilly apparently knowing all along but not saying anything until a few days ago, because she, quote, "knew Mia would freak the hell out if I brought it up first", and wanted to see how long it would take the two of them to figure it out on their own.

Or the fact that Michael was going to be going to college a few subway stops from Mia's own home, so she'll still be able to see him whenever.

Or Lana walking out to the hallway while they were kissing to go to the ladies, and saying in this disgusted voice, "God, get a room, would you?"

And slow dancing with Michael all night long, until Lilly finally came up to them and said, "Come on, you guys, it's snowing so hard if we don't leave now we'll never get home."

And kissing good night outside the stoop to Mia's apartment, with the snow falling all around them (and Lars complaining about the cold).

Her dad says that if Mia doesn't stop talking about Michael he's going to sit up the front with the pilot for the flight.

Grandmere says that she can't get over the change in Mia. She says Mia seems taller. Maybe she has grown, a little, and Grandmere says its because, due to a blanket decision for forgiveness all around (and the fact that Philipe still thinks what Mia did is hysterical), Mia's entire wardrobe for her Genovia trip has been designed by Sebastiano; to make her as princessy in appearance as she (isn't) in personality, just like how the dress he made her would make Michael not see Mia as simply Lilly's friend.

Except he it turned out he already did.

And that's the best thing in the world, in Mia's book.

;;;

And here's a happy ending. Aww, aren't they sweet.

From here on, there's going to be a good bit of canon divergence, mostly in terms of Mia and Michael's relationship compared to how they are in the books - just because there was a lot of how their relationship played out that I - with the 20/20 of hindsight + adulthood - don't personally care for.

But first, instead of going straight into a work of the fourth book, I'm working on a story about Mia's trip to Genovia, because they'll be some things happening there that will effect the next few story arcs.


End file.
